Author’s Note: The moment I saw the Giant Squid challenge picture, I knew it was an epic piece of artwork that deserved an epic tale.  I hope I delivered. Lynn : )

 

A third season story…

 

 

Giants from the Deep

 

by Lynn

 

 

Prologue

 

 

The bright orange rubber life raft was tossed mercilessly by the giant waves of the tumultuous sea, while the sky darkened by the storm, refused to yield any light from her heavenly bodies. 

 

“Where are they?!” Stanton, a frantic occupant of the life raft, and one of only two survivors of the doomed ship, screamed in panic-filled terror.

 

“They’re on their way!” Taylor yelled over the roar of the angry sea, holding a finger to one ear with the radio pressed to the other.

 

“It’s coming!” Stanton cried desperately, a burly sailor who had work all his adult life on freighters and was quite unaccustomed to the absolute horror he was now experiencing.

 

“We’re going to make it… see?  Over there, that light,” Taylor pointed toward the small beacon of light piercing through the otherwise dark sky.

 

“They can’t see us!  Its pitch black out here,” Stanton countered, trying desperately to regain control over his fear, but losing the battle to the dread that loomed over them with each passing moment.

 

“The emergency beacon is working, they’re headed straight for us,” Taylor assured, his own terror tamped down only a notch below his shipmate’s.

 

The two men watched the rescue helicopter approach, its search light scanning the ocean below as it approached the raft.

 

“You’re on a direct intercept approach; keep coming,” Taylor urged into the emergency handheld radio as the young officer guided the helicopter to their position.   Stanton leaned over the raft, observing the new ripples surrounding the small raft.

 

“Oh God, no!  It’s here!”  Stanton yelled, frantically searching for the safest place to bail out of the raft and take his chances in the sea.

 

Taylor placed a steadying hand on his shipmate’s shoulder, imploring him to listen to reason.  “There’s nowhere to go, you saw what it did to the ship.  Our only hope is the chopper.”

 

Stanton shook in terror, nodding woodenly while studying the helicopter’s approach, even as the raft bobbed ominously from the movement directly below.  Suddenly, the raft lobbed in one direction and then another announcing their inevitable doom, just as the chopper’s spotlight found the small craft.

 

“What the hell?” they heard over the radio.  “It’s massive, Captain!  There’s no way we can stay out of reach of those tentacles…”

 

“Don’t leave us!  Please, don’t leave us,” Taylor pleaded reaching the point of desperation at the thought of their likely demise should the chopper leave them to the monster below.

 

“Wait,” the pilot said, “Look!  It’s leaving.”

 

“Captain, it’s still too close,” a terrified crewmember argued as the faint shadow of long menacing tentacles lurched just below the water line, yet visible under the raft.

 

“No, it’s the light.  It doesn’t like the light,” the helicopter captain reasoned.  “I’ll keep the raft in the spotlight.  No rescue diver,” he ordered over his shoulder, bypassing the standard procedure for the rescue operation.  “We’re going to drop the harness, but be ready to ditch the line if that thing shows back up; we can’t afford to have it pull us into the sea with it.  Ready to lower harness?” he added.

 

“Yes sir, harness ready to deploy.”

 

“Let’s do this before that thing decides the light isn’t so bad,” the captain warned.  “Life boat, this is Rescue One.  The harness is coming down.  We might only have one shot at this so keep your heads.  One of you will have to slip into the harness and the other will slide the strap around him then wrap your arms and legs around his body.  We’re going to pull you up together and then get the hell out of here,” the captain explained.

 

Taylor looked at Stanton and nodded.  “Okay, Rescue One, just get us out of here.  Please!” he added frantically, watching the harness lower, even as he spoke.

 

Anxious hands reached up to grab the swaying harness as the pilot worked to keep the creature at bay by keeping the raft in the bullseye of the spotlight, all while managing the expertise of dropping a line in the middle of a storm.

 

“Got it!” Stanton announced.  The harness was given enough slack to allow the larger sailor to slide it on.  Once secure, Taylor climbed into the looped strap and then wrapped his appendages around his shipmate.

 

“We’re in!” Taylor yelled, looking over his shoulder at new ripples forming around their raft as their worst fears began to manifest themselves.  “Go!  It’s coming back!” he yelled into the radio.

 

The crew wasted no time in engaging the electric winch, but their ascent seemed to rise in slow motion when they looked below them to see large tentacles beginning to broach the surface.  Suddenly, their harness swung violently, and their ascent ceased when the helicopter made a sharp movement forward to evade a reaching tentacle.  The two men looked up at the crew, begging them with their eyes to not abandon them to the sea as the creature’s tentacles began flailing about, searching blindly for its escaping prey.  They screamed when a searching appendage nearly found them, but its movements were random and frantic as the helicopter gained speed and found an escape route in between the thrashing tentacles with suction pads as large as the lifeboat itself.

 

Incredibly, the helicopter evaded the sea-monster’s reach and disappeared into the night’s sky, carrying with it the two survivors holding on for dear life.  After what seemed to be a lifetime, Stanton and Taylor felt the harness resume its upward motion, looking below to see only a dark, black sea, with the creature nowhere to be seen.  It only took a moment more for the two dangling men to reach their destination, where the rescue crew helped pull them into the safety of the helicopter.  Upon realization of their successful rescue, the two men broke out into hysterical laughter mixed with ecstatic elation, embracing one another in a friendship forged by adversity.  Just as quickly, their joy turned to tears as they realized just how close they had come to suffering the gruesome death that their fellow shipmates had surely endured.  With wool blankets wrapped around their shoulders, each man was left to contemplate their harrowing experience with both men coming to the same conclusions; they’d never again be the same; and they would never, ever return to the sea.

 

Chapter One

 

The soft hum and gentle beeps of highly advanced electronics buzzed in the background and went largely unnoticed aboard the state-of-the-art nuclear submarine, SSRN Seaview, as dedicated crewmen attended their stations.   Palpable expectation permeated the Control Room as two months under the ice had built-up intense anticipation, growing internally each day they neared the end of the ice field to reach the crescendo they were now experiencing.

 

“Open waters ahead, Sir, bearing 020 relative,” Kowalski reported from sonar.

 

“Very well,” Captain Lee Crane replied, “all ahead; dead slow.”

 

“All ahead; dead slow,” Seaview’s Executive Officer, Chip Morton echoed to the captain’s affirming nod.

 

“Still clear, Kowalski?” Crane inquired.

 

“Aye sir, we’re in the clear.”

 

“Very well, all-stop,” he ordered into the mic and waited as his order was carried out and the forward motion of the sub came to a complete stop.

 

“Depth, keel to bottom?” the dark-haired captain inquired, leaning over the chart table.

 

“Thirty fathoms, keel to bottom,” Chip replied, verifying from the helm.

 

“Very well,” Lee replied, confirming their position and marking it on the chart before him.  “Take us up, Mr. Morton.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” the Exec replied, raising a mic to speak.  “Blow all ballast tanks, 10 degrees on the planes,” he ordered while Lee noted their position in the boat’s log as the large submarine began its ascent.

 

Lee closed the log book and stowed it under the chart table then turned toward the Control Room, surveying the situation lights and verifying their present depth of 15 fathoms.  He walked to the navigation computer, depressing the button for a read-out and perused its contents on his way to the Radio Shack.

 

“We’re at ninety-feet, Sparks,” he informed the radio operator with a raised brow, anticipating a flood of messages from the world they’d been sequestered from while under the ice.

 

“Aye, Sir, I’m starting to hear some chatter already,” the slender lieutenant replied with a grin. 

 

“Very well, your vacation is over, mister,” Lee quipped with a jestful pat to Sparks’ shoulder.

 

“Aye Skipper, I’m ready to begin transmitting,” he replied, as he prepared to contact the Nelson Institute and transmit their present position for the first communication in three weeks.  They had managed to raise a communication’s buoy through a small patch of ice several weeks ago for a short “all is well” communique with NIMR, but that had been the extent of their contact with the outside world since their voyage began two months ago. 

 

Sparks reached for the clip board already organized with the highest priority of boat’s business stacked on top.  It was going to be a busy day on the radio, but the gleam in the shy lieutenant’s eyes betrayed his otherwise straight face, as Seaview’s Communication’s Officer engaged in his work with the concealed delight of a child who had not been allowed to play with his favorite toy in some time.

 

Lee cracked a short grin that faded just as quickly and headed back to the chart table with the NAV printout still in hand.  As he approached, he took in the mesmerizing sight of the bubbles bathed in the filtering sunlight and pressing against Seaview’s windows as the boat rose majestically to the surface.  Even though he was quite accustomed to the view, it was a welcome sight after their extended voyage in the frozen region.  Satisfaction played out only slightly in his countenance, before glancing to his right at the unmistakable steps of Nelson’s oxfords descending down the spiral staircase.

 

“Admiral,” he greeted amiably, “you were right, Sir, open waters before 0800.”

 

“Lucky guess,” Harry replied with a thin grin as Lee chuckled, shaking his head slightly in a respectful beg-to-differ reaction; they both knew that Admiral Harriman Nelson didn’t need lucky guesses to make his predictions.  He was spot on… as usual.

 

“Ten feet to surface,” Morton reported as Nelson and Crane soaked in the brightness of the sun guiding the vessel to the surface like an out of body experience of a dying man.  Only a moment passed before they saw their first light of day in two months as the large submarine broached the surface with a gentle bobbing motion under their feet.  “On the top,” Chip reported, “outside temperature 42 degrees (F), winds out of the SW at 10 mph, scattered cumulus overcast,” he finished proficiently.

 

“Very well, Mr. Morton, crack the hatch,” Crane ordered with a small grin, turning toward the crewman holding his heavy weather jacket.  “Thanks, Phil,” he replied, sliding on the tan overcoat as Nelson did the same.

 

Upon gearing up, they headed toward the conning tower passing satisfied crewmen at their stations, content to experience the fresh air vicariously for the moment, as the Skipper and the Admiral ascended the ladder to the bridge.  Despite their diligence to their stations, more than a few of the men snuck a peek towards the Admiral’s Front Porch to catch the breathtaking view of white puffy clouds scattered across an otherwise, incredibly blue sky while absorbing like a sponge their first sight of daylight since submerging into the icy depths two months ago.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee followed Harry up the ladder to the conning tower, taking a deep breath when he reached the top.  The air was cool but comfortable as the two officers took in the brilliance of the sky, accompanied by the first anticipated breaths of un-recirculated air.  Neither one hid their satisfaction as the beauty of the sea partly frozen with icebergs floating in the distance, was surpassed only by the cotton-like clouds dotting the azure sky above.  They barely had time to revel in the sunshine before the buzz of the comm system interrupted them.

 

 “Skipper, this is the Exec.”

 

“Go ahead, Mr. Morton.”

 

“Sir, NIMR Communications reports that Washington has been trying to make contact with the Admiral for the last three weeks; they relay that it’s urgent he contact them at once.”

 

“Very well,” he replied, stowing the mic and raising an eyebrow at the ominous message.

 

“Well, I’d better not keep Washington waiting,” Harry said, taking one final look at the sky and then turning for the ladder, followed by Lee.

 

At the bottom of the ladder, Harry turned toward the Radio Shack.  “I’ll make the call from my cabin,” he informed.

 

“Aye Sir,” Sparks replied, readying his station for the transmission as the Admiral headed for the spiral staircase.

 

“Chip, post a look-out,” Lee ordered, arriving at the chart table.

 

“Aye sir,” he replied then leaned in closer for a private discussion.  “What do you think it’s all about, Lee?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he answered, biting his bottom lip in unspoken concern, “but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” he finished, reaching for the straightedge and charting the next checkpoint for their voyage home.

 

* * * * *

 

“Yes, Mr. Secretary,” Harry acknowledged.  “Right away… very well,” he finished, hanging up the receiver.  He pondered the call for only a moment before depressing the intercom button.  “Captain Crane, this is Nelson.”

 

“This is Crane.”

 

“The SECNAV is sending over pertinent information via the radio-phone, have it delivered to my office the instant it arrives.”

 

“Will do, Admiral.”

 

“Thanks, and Lee, give me about an hour to study the information and then report to my cabin for a briefing.”

 

“Aye, Sir.  Any change of course?”

 

“Just proceed on our present course south for now; I’ll have more details in the next hour.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Harry expelled a breath, tapping his pen on the desk blotter in deep thought, before heading to a cabinet.  He rifled through some rolled sea charts until he found the one he wanted and took it back to his desk, unrolling it and leaning over the chart in deep thought.  Three ships tragically lost at sea in the last four weeks, and only two men survived… with a fantastic tale.

 

* * * * *

 

“Whew,” Lee expressed, blowing a breath of disbelief with an accompanied shake of his head.  He closed the filed folder and placed it on the edge of Nelson’s desk.  “That’s some story,” he commented, after reading the accounts of the two surviving sailors.

 

“Yes, and verified by the Search and Rescue team,” the auburn-haired admiral replied, “and this,” he added, dropping a black and white photograph on the desk depicting a dark and angry sea, a life raft being tossed about in the waves, and a large shadowy figure directly under the raft.  Though the figure was largely hidden by the sea, several appendages of a squid-like creature could be seen under the helicopter’s spotlight.

 

Lee blew a breath, staring at the picture and extrapolating the size of the creature by the dimensions of the appendages’ visible parts.

 

“That would explain the recent attacks and ship losses, but it just doesn’t make sense,” the captain countered.  “How could a creature this size go unnoticed for so long and how could it possibly feed itself to sustain its enormous size?”

 

“Its size, no doubt, is the reason why the large ships are being targeted.  Think about it, Lee; from underwater, those ships might appear to be prey.  Though Sperm whales are its usual predator, smaller whales are a giant squid’s natural quarry, after all.  At any rate, these are the questions Washington wants us to answer.”

 

“With the vastness of the ocean,” the captain pondered, “how could we possibly narrow the search down to find it?  The ship wrecks are hundreds of miles apart,” he added, opening the folder again to verify his previous observation.

 

“Yes, but do you notice anything significant on this chart?” Harry asked, unrolling a sea chart over the top of his desk.

 

Lee stood and leaned over the desk, perusing the chart where three red “x’s” marked the location of the last known locations of the three ships lost at sea.  The captain quickly surveyed the chart, his forehead tightening in thought until it he shook his head in surrender, unable to come up with the significance solely with the data before him.

 

“Though the shipwrecks are, as you said, hundreds of miles apart, they all seem to be centrally located around this particular spot,” Harry said, indicating the area in question with a tap of his pencil.

 

Lee studied the chart again, almost ready to admit that he had no clue, when his eyes suddenly alighted in illumination.  “Sterling’s sealab!”*

 

Harry nodded, sitting back and tossing the pencil on the chart.  “It could explain everything, the creature’s enormous size…”

 

“And why the sudden activity,” Lee added.

 

“Yes, the fissure produced an unnatural growth rate in Sterling.  Now, based on our past experience, it’s conceivable that the squid grew to this size in a fairly short amount of time.”

 

Lee slid onto the edge of Harry’s desk, lowering his eyes in deep thought until he raised them in marked concern.  “If the fissure affected a squid to grow to this size, then we can expect more sea creatures in the area to also be affected.”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Harry said, leaning over the chart with his hands folded.  “I’ve suggested that Washington quarantine the area, and the US has agreed temporarily, but the UN is dragging its feet; they want proof that the shipwrecks were nothing more than tragic storms at sea.  This area is right in the middle of a well-established international sea lane.  The prevailing winds and currents funnel the ships right to this area,” he explained using his finger to trace a large invisible circle on the chart.  “They want something concrete before disrupting the sea trade.  It appears they’re skeptical and want proof beyond two terror-struck survivors and a fuzzy photograph.  Quite frankly, I think the hold-outs are more worried about their bottom dollar than admitting we’ve got a problem.”  Harry sat back in his chair and heaved a silent sigh.  “We’re constricted by time on this, Lee.  We’ve got to get there, and if the fissure has been re-opened, seal it… before we lose another ship!” he added with conviction.

 

Lee nodded and stood.  “I’ll bring Chip up to speed and order a course change, but have you given any thought as to how we might neutralize a creature of that size?”

 

“Assuming its only adaptation is its enormous size, I’m sure I can adjust Seaview’s forward lasers to do the job.”  Harry dropped his head slightly and sighed.  “It really is a shame to have to destroy the creature,” he added before raising a hand to quell the forthcoming protest from Seaview’s captain.  “I know; we have no alternative, and we certainly can’t allow it to threaten any more lives.  It’s just a shame.”

 

Lee nodded in acknowledgement, completely understanding that the scientist in Harry would love to study the giant squid.  Be that as it may, they both knew that creature must be destroyed.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

“Report, Mr. O’Brien,” the tall captain inquired upon his arrival into the Control Room.

 

“Proceeding at Full Speed as ordered, Sir.  Meeting all checkpoints on schedule,” the young lieutenant replied.

 

“Very well, steady as she goes,” Lee replied, checking the boat’s current position at the chart table.  It had been a full day since they had emerged from the ice and had subsequently been informed of the recent ship wrecks, the last only a week prior.  Seaview was now in route to Dr. Sterling’s doomed sea lab.  Though it was possible a fissure could have opened up elsewhere, this was their best option to begin the search.

 

“Aye, sir, steady as she goes,” O’Brien repeated.

 

Lee acknowledged with a nod and scanned the situations lights briefly before turning back toward the Officer of the Deck.  “I’ll be in the Wardroom if you need me.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Bobby replied before turning back to his duties.

 

Lee made his way to the Wardroom, silently pondering the irony of the situation.  Cara Sloane had used the Wardroom and the crew’s mess to distribute an hallucinate through the salt supply.  Her goal was to confuse the crew as they experienced hallucinations of sea monsters so that the voyage would continue once they reasoned there was no real danger, and it had worked.  By the time he had realized that the overgrown creatures on their radar and outside Seaview’s windows were indeed real, they had reached their destination.  He heaved a silent sigh, remembering that Miss Sloane, the beautiful blonde scientist with eyes for no one else but Dr. Sterling, had perished in the doomed sea lab.  Such a tragedy, he thought just as he reached the Wardroom door.

 

He took his seat at the empty Captain’s Table, expecting Chip and Harry at any moment, as the steward left a glass of water and offered him coffee.  Dinner in the Wardroom was more formal in that the meal was served, unlike the buffet style at breakfast and lunch.  As such, he had time to contemplate the tragedy of the destruction of the sea lab.

 

“You must be in deep thought,” noted a familiar voice, as Chip took a seat across from him.

 

“Just thinking about Sterling… and Miss Sloane,” he answered regretfully.

 

“Yeah, I’ve had the same thoughts,” Chip admitted.

 

“Have you seen the Admiral?” Lee asked, plastering on a thin smile in an effort to shake the broody mood.

 

“No.  I imagine he’s still in the lab.”

 

Lee nodded, just as the subject of his inquiry strode through the door.

 

“Lee, Chip,” Harry greeted, taking his seat as the attentive steward placed a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of the admiral.

 

“I was wondering if we’d have to send a detail to pry you out of the lab,” Lee jested in a good-natured joke.

 

Harry responded with a raised eyebrow and sipped on his coffee, not feeling that the playful jest needed a response from him; however, the twinkle in his eye told the table’s occupants that he wasn’t offended. 

 

“I’ve been working on modifying the laser to a setting that might stun the sea creature, rather than destroying it,” he explained instead.

 

Lee’s brow tightened as he put down the coffee cup, abandoning the brew before even taking a sip.  “But why, Sir?  Surely you don’t believe we can contain the creature?” he asked in bewilderment.

 

“Just long enough to get some living samples from the creature for study,” Harry qualified.  “We’ve postulated, but really haven’t determined, just why a fissure originating from the earth’s core could have produced such a growth mutation.”

 

“We have another mystery as well, Sir,” Lee added, biting his bottom lip in thought before continuing.  “The last time the fissure was opened, the area was marked by violent eruptions…”

 

“And you’re wondering why the seismic sensors we left haven’t recorded them,” Harry finished.

 

“I was wondering the same thing,” Chip added.

 

“That’s just one of the mysteries we have to solve,” the admiral stated matter-of-factly just as the salad plates were placed before the officers.

 

Chip reached for the salt, and then shook his head at the déjà vu the move elicited, but then proceeded to shake the contents onto his salad.  The action was met with soft chuckles from the table before the light mood was interrupted by Chief Sharkey entering the Wardroom, his presence signaling the folder he was carrying was official.

 

“Skipper,” he addressed, presenting the folder to Seaview’s Captain.

 

Lee put down his fork, abandoning his first bite of salad and opened the folder.  He perused the contents quickly and then checked his watch, calculating the boat’s ETA silently.

 

“Very well, Chief,” he responded without emotion, though his eyes broadcasted new concern.

 

“By your leave, sirs,” Sharkey offered in Navy decorum and exited the Wardroom.

 

Lee handed the folder across the table to Harry, explaining its contents as he did so.  “There’s been another incident… this time a pleasure yacht.”

 

“A pleasure yacht?” Chip exclaimed in disbelief.  “What was a pleasure yacht doing in the shipping lanes?”

 

Harry nodded disgustedly, placing a radio photo of a newspaper clipping in the center of the table for Chip to see.

 

“Apparently, the photo was leaked to the press and someone thought it was a good entrepreneurial opportunity to take thrill-seekers out to the area,” he explained with ample disgust in his voice as Chip studied the fuzzy black and white photo taken from the rescue helicopter showing a small raft surrounded by incredibly large tentacles rising to the surface.

 

“There were twenty souls on board,” Lee added solemnly, “and only five survivors,” he finished as all three men experienced remorse for the ill-fated yacht.  After a long moment of silence, Lee raised his eyes toward the admiral.  “I’m not sure live samples are worth the danger, Admiral,” he asserted regarding Harry’s desire to stun the creature for cell and blood samples.

 

“I understand, Lee, but hear me out.  The report states that the squid attacked the boat, but it was reported as very sluggish… slow in its movements.  It may be nearing the end of its life-cycle,” he postulated, proposing that its mutant growth had unnaturally spent the life of the squid.

 

Lee considered the new information, then nodded as he made up his mind.  “Supposing you’re right, how long will it take to readjust the lasers to full strength if we have to destroy it, or any other mutant creature we run across down there?”

 

“I can write an algorithm that can change between the settings in less than thirty seconds,” Harry answered.

 

“Thirty seconds may be too long, but let’s proceed and I’ll make my decision once we reach the area and I’ve assessed the risk,” he replied, asserting his right as captain of the boat to pull the plug on any decision he deemed unsafe for Seaview and its crew.

 

Harry pursed his bottom lip at Lee’s protest.  He knew to expect resistance to the idea, and it wasn’t often that he didn’t get what he wanted as a Navy admiral and Seaview’s creator.  He blew a breath out, letting go of a knee-jerk reaction to argue (and win) his point, then relented completely.  In all fairness, it was exactly what he hired Lee Crane to do; make decisions based on the facts at hand, and not pander to an admiral’s wishes like a “Yes Man”.  Still, he would make the argument that what they learned from the creature was worth a certain risk… to a certain degree, and he fully expected Seaview’s Captain to come around to the idea.  This expectation not derived from his rank as admiral, but from the long-standing and well-tested relationship he and Seaview’s Captain had built.  There was a level of trust between the two that, coupled with their experience, had produced many successful outcomes to otherwise unwinnable propositions.

 

The remainder of the meal was spent with very little conversation, with the officers clearly affected by the recent loss of life and the possible repercussions that meant for their mission.

 

* * * * *

 

“Helm, slow to one-third,” Lee ordered, walking away from the inertia navigator with a print-out indicating Seaview’s present location.  He studied it as he made his way to the chart table, reconciling the check-points to their present position and satisfied that his dead-reckoning had produced the expected results.

 

Chip entered the Control Room from the aft hatch, and quickly made his way forward.

 

“We’re about to enter the fifty-mile radius of the fissure,” Lee explained to his executive officer.

 

“Aye, Sir,” he acknowledged, moving to the mic hanging on the edge of the chart table.  “Bow look-out detail to the Nose,” he ordered before shipping the mic.  “I’ve got two men on the detail, as ordered, Skipper.”

 

“Good,” he replied solemnly.  “If our last visit here was any indication, we should expect to see mutant creatures at any time.”

 

* * * * * 

 

“Anything, Ski?” Lee asked, standing behind the sonar operator and studying the green display screen for himself.

 

“Nothing unusual, Skipper,” he replied, his attention fully engaged on his screen, even as he answered.

 

“Hydrophone?” the captain inquired.

 

“All quiet, Sir,” Patterson reassured.

 

“Very well,” he replied, the entire Control Room taking their cue from their Skipper and adding even more diligence to their duties, while in the Nose, Chip briefed Riley and Phil regarding the bow-lookout duty in the Nose. 

 

Seaview was traveling dead slow at 200 feet and were cut-off from communications with the outside world at this depth.  The current mood on board was marked with concern and laced with due diligence, echoing the danger of the sub’s inevitable run-in with unnaturally large species if, indeed, the fissure had been reopened.  Not the least of their concerns, a squid so large it had sunken four ships.

 

“Captain, I’ve got something,” Ski called, adjusting his equipment as he spoke.

 

Lee crossed the deck swiftly, leaning over to assess the green-hued bogey on the sonar screen. 

 

“Assessment?” the captain asked.

 

Ski analyzed the information then reported, “Definitely a biologic, Sir… and big,” he added quickly engaging in eye contact with his superior officer before studying the screen once again.

 

Lee nodded, agreeing with Ski’s report and looking toward the bow.  “Bow look-out, see anything?”

 

Riley and Phil both studied their assigned quadrants, but the floodlights from Seaview’s bow only reached thirty feet onward, everything after that was just a dark, black, inky sea. 

 

“It’s a whale,” Patterson declared, handing the secondary headset to the captain.

 

Lee ignored the soft, padded steps descending the spiral staircase announcing the Admiral’s arrival, devoting his entire attention to identifying the creature.  He listened intently, while Nelson assessed the situation in a glance and advanced to the listening station.

 

Harry positioned himself next to Lee, quickly taking in the bogey on sonar and correctly assessing the non-mechanical attributes as a large biologic.

 

Lee nodded in silent agreement and pulled the earpiece away from his ear.  “A whale,” he confirmed; the unmistakable sound of the creature’s song known well to the fully-trained hydrophone operator.

 

“Got it!” Riley reported from the bow, as a shadow past across Seaview’s path.

 

Harry and Lee both moved forward, to catch the large creature which wasn’t in a hurry to swim along.  As it swam they estimated its size a daunting seventy-five feet in length.

 

“A blue whale,” the genius admiral identified, “by the looks of her, a naturally matured female,” Harry surmised. 

 

Lee nodded.  No one questioned whether the admiral’s supposition that the whale’s size was natural and not a young whale that had mutated to this size, since everybody knew that Admiral Nelson’s knowledge was undisputable regarding the large mammals.  Suddenly, the blue whale changed directions, making an abrupt, but lazy ascent, presumably headed for the surface to breathe through its blowhole.

 

Lee relaxed his shoulders slightly then refocused both himself and the Control Room with his next words. 

 

“All right, men, stay with it,” he ordered, ensuring the crew remained attentive to their duty and the potential dangers these waters represented.  Even if upon arrival, they found the fissure had remained closed, they were still in search of an unnaturally large squid, capable of destroying Seaview and all hands aboard.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee tore his searching eyes away from the Seaview’s windows; the sea was calm, and sonar would detect a creature even before the Look-out could spot it.  He headed to chart table to verify their ETA, Harry lingered only a moment longer and joined him.

 

“I’ve managed to cut the time down to an eighteen second delay between settings,” Harry informed Seaview’s captain.

 

Lee picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser end on the chart in front of him.  “Under the right conditions, that may be acceptable,” he conceded in thought, “but, Admiral, I can’t make any promises,” he added respectfully and almost apologetically.

 

“Of course, Lee,” Harry assured, the deaths of so many people weighing heavily upon both men.  The curious admiral, however, also knew that if there was something to be learned from the mutant creature, that it behooved them to take advantage of the opportunity as it presented itself.  Nevertheless, the ultimate decision was Captain Crane’s.

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Seaview’s approach was slow and deliberate, with Lee intending to keep the upper hand by knowing what the sea held hidden in her vast, dark waters, at least as far their equipment could monitor, that is; and were nearly ten miles into the fifty-mile radius of their destination.

 

“Biologic straight ahead,” Ski reported from sonar.

 

Lee turned toward Seaview’s window, straining to see past the floodlights on Seaview’s bow.

 

“I’ve got it!” Riley declared.  “Some sort of crazy-big fish,” he added in his colorful surfer vernacular.

 

“A Pacific Bonito,” Harry identified as the officers gathered around the window.

 

“The bonito only grows three to four feet long,” Chip observed incredulously, “that one has to be, at least, twenty feet.”

 

“Yes, but note the conical head, and the dark stripes along its back and sides.  There can be no doubt about it, it’s a bonito,” Harry assured.

 

“It’s starting to look like your hypothesis about Dr. Sterling’s Fissure being the source may be true,” Lee noted as the pelagic fish swam past and out of their view.  “But something’s still bothering me…”

 

“Why the quake sensors didn’t alert us of activity strong enough to rupture the fissure,” Harry finished for him.

 

“Yeah,” Lee answered quietly, concentrating on their limited view.

 

“I’ve got another one; 300 yards, one-eight degrees relative,” Ski interjected.

 

“Dead slow,” Lee ordered over his shoulder. 

 

Everyone strained to catch a glimpse of the large sea creature off the starboard bow, but it was out of visual range for the naked eye. 

 

“Chip, ETA to the first sensor?” the captain asked, the inquiry sending the Exec back to the chart table, where he quickly ascertained their position.

 

“Ten miles on our present course; ETA fifty-five minutes at present speed.”

 

“Very well,” Lee replied, fully resigned to the fact that they weren’t getting anywhere fast by traveling at dead-slow; it was simply a necessity given the large sea creatures and their ability to move at astonishing speeds.  The bonito, alone, was capable of forty miles per hour in its natural state and no-one knew at this point, how the growth mutation would affect its speed; but it was reasonable to assume there would be a significant increase.

 

“We need to find a way to tag some of these creatures,” Harry lamented.

 

“Admiral, we need to deal with the fissure first and then there’s the squid…” Lee reminded him.

 

Harry waived a dismissive hand, “Of course, but once the source of the mutation has been eliminated, we could tag some of these creatures as we search for the squid,” he argued, never once doubting their ability to handle the situation and typically thinking ahead to the next steps necessary to their mission.

 

“I can’t allow divers in this area, Admiral, you saw what happened to Sterling,” he rebutted incredulously.

 

“We’ll collect sample waters and establish safety parameters, and I’ll modify a delivery device so that the creatures can be tagged from a safe distance,” he assured, the twinkle in his eye unmistakable to those who knew him. 

 

Lee nodded in tentative agreement; though his first priority was determining if the fissure was still open, the second was as equally important - to find the mutant squid before it killed again.  Nevertheless, he was also acutely aware that Nelson’s desire to understand the phenomenon was vital in order to prevent any future tragedy.  It was true that Harry’s enthusiasm for exploration and scientific discovery had, at times, pushed Seaview and her crew to the limits, but the admiral wasn’t reckless or irresponsible… just curious, in the best possible way.  Therefore, it was his job as captain to maintain proper safety parameters.  Sometimes, that meant asserting his responsibility as master and commander of the vessel to deny Seaview’s creator when his scientific curiosity overshadowed the safety factor.  But there wasn’t anyone he respected more, and Harriman Nelson had earned his trust, and indeed, the right, to push the envelope of the only windowed submarine in the world; a submarine that he envisioned and pursued when the naysayers of the world said it couldn’t be done. 

 

“Let’s start with the water samples, and we’ll go from there,” Lee decided to Harry’s satisfying tight-lipped smile.  “Chip, assign a detail to take care of whatever the Admiral needs.”

 

“Aye Sir,” Morton acknowledged before stepping away and calling to Sharkey at the status board.

 

“Aye Sir,” Sharkey answered, crossing the deck quickly to report.

 

“Large contact, two degrees off the starboard bow; two hundred yards and closing,” Kowalski interrupted from his station.

 

“Hydrophones?” Lee inquired on his way to sonar.

 

Patterson held a hand to one ear analyzing any sound the contact might make, before answering, “A biologic, Sir.”

 

“Bow look-out?” Seaview’s captain queried over his shoulder.

 

“Nothing yet,” Chip reported from the sub’s window alongside the look-out detail.

 

“There, sir,” Riley chimed in, “that shadow,” he pointed out.

 

“Put it on the monitor,” Harry ordered from behind Ski’s chair.

 

Patterson switched on the large monitor just as a large fish swam from the shadows into the illumination of Seaview’s bow floodlights.

 

“A jack mackerel,” the admiral identified.  “I estimate about ten feet long, more than three times its maximum natural size.”

 

Lee pursed his lips in a natural move he did often when in deep thought.  “Then it’s looking more and more likely that the fissure is open,” he surmised out loud.

 

“Well, it certainly supports our hypothesis,” Harry agreed.  “Of course, we’ll need the water samples and a direct observation at the fissure site to know for sure,” he added as the large, light blue fish swam lazily past the monitor on its way to his next meal. 

 

“Very well, let’s get to it,” Lee said with a nod toward Sharkey.  “Take care of whatever the Admiral needs,” he ordered to a sharp, “Aye, aye, Skipper,” before the Chief trailing on Nelson's heels, followed out the aft hatch.

 

Lee lingered over the sonar station a moment longer, tracking another large contact just registering twenty-five miles out, too far out for a visual yet, then offered an affirming pat to Ski’s shoulder in an unspoken “Carry on” and headed to the Radio Shack.

 

“Any readings from the seismic sensors, Sparks?” he asked upon arrival.

 

“Negative Sir, not a one,” he said somewhat perplexed.  “I sent out the test signals, but the sensors aren't responding with any signal at all.  I'm not even getting a reading on their power status.  It just doesn't seem likely that every single sensor would malfunction in exactly the same way, Sir,” he added, venting both his frustration and his concern at the same time.

 

“No, it doesn't,” Lee agreed.  “Keep trying,” he said and then headed forward.

 

“Chip, Sparks is getting absolutely no readings from any of the seismic sensors,” he informed.

 

Morton's forehead tightened in obvious concern.  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

 

“Me either.”

 

“What do you make of it?” Chip asked; their conversation kept low at the chart table.

 

“I don't know.  I suppose it's possible for the sensors to have all malfunctioned due to a manufacturing error...”

 

“But you're not buying it?” Chip interrupted; their conversation in brainstorming mode.

 

“No,” he said with a slight shake of his head, before making a decision.  “Have the Flying Sub prepped for launch, ASAP.  I'm going to scout ahead before I commit this submarine to more unknowns than I'm willing to deal with right now.”

 

“Aye Sir, do you want Kowalski to co-pilot?”

 

“No, I want him on sonar.  I'll take Riley,” he said with a nod toward the blue-clad seaman currently manning the look-out.

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper.”

 

Lee reached for the mic, clicking it to clear the line before speaking.  “Admiral, this is Crane.”

 

“Nelson here.”

 

“Admiral, Sparks still hasn't been able to reestablish contact with any of the sensors.  I'm taking FS1 out to scout ahead.”

 

There was a slight delay and then Harry's response.  “Very well, but be careful, Lee.  If my hunch is correct, you'll be running into more abnormally large sea creatures out there.”

 

“Aye Sir,” Lee answered and shipped the mic.  Sharing this part of the ocean with a man-eating squid was cause enough for concern, but the added mystery of the silent sensors had added another layer of intrigue that was making him very uncomfortable.  Perhaps, it was too many years as an ONI Operative, but his sixth sense was telling him that just maybe, there was more to the fissure being open than an earthquake that had never registered on sensors, that had all stopped working at once.  Whatever the cause, he wanted answers before Seaview proceeded.

 

“All stop, Mr. Morton,” he ordered and then headed to the bow, where the steward had already retrieved his flight jacket.  Riley's replacement arrived, and the young blond had already donned his leather jacket over his blue jumpsuit.  “Ready to do a little exploring?” Lee asked, appreciating the expectation of adventure the young seaman exuded without shame.

 

“Aye, aye, Skip,” the surfer-turned-submariner quipped, his excitement both exuberant and palpable.

 

Lee suppressed a smile at Riley’s acknowledgement, stepping down the first rung into the deck hatch and exchanging a quick glance with Chip, who was less impressed with Stu Riley’s shipboard decorum, and made it known with a small scowl of disapproval.  The Exec’s scowl was missed on the eager seaman, but only caused the Captain’s smile to widen as he lowered himself into the flying sub.  It was a much-needed moment of levity that faded as soon as he settled into the left seat and began flipping on switches.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry issued his last-minute instructions to Sharkey’s detail in the Missile Room.  Sensors built into Seaview’s hull registered salinity and temperature and were readily available in the Control Room; however, further studies of the water’s properties required actual water samples.  A special collection tool would be lowered down the diving bell’s well to achieve the samples required.  A schedule and system for collection had been arranged and his lab would soon be inundated with a steady stream of samples, ferried diligently by Seaview’s COB; that he could count on.  But he had a few moments to spare, and he intended on using that time to check on Lee. 

 

As he stepped over the missile room’s water-tight door hatch, he felt the shudder of FS1’s bay doors closing, a reminder that Lee had left the relative safety of Seaview.  It was a private concern not mirrored in his determined facial expression.  Despite his enthusiasm for discovery, he was well aware of the dangers these waters presented should his hypothesis prove true concerning the fissure, and he hadn’t lost track of the potential danger to the flying sub and her occupants.  Indeed, even Seaview herself was vulnerable to the massive size of the giant squid.  He only hoped that they were only dealing with one such creature.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry entered the Control Room, listening and taking in the normal sounds of operation as he moved forward.  He couldn’t help an inward smile when he heard Lee’s voice over the comm system.

 

“We’re three miles from the fissure,” he reported, “still no readings from the sensor,” he added just as Harry arrived at the chart table.

 

“Very well,” Chip responded, before clicking off the mic to bring the admiral up to speed.  “The captain’s attempting to recover one of the sensors.”

 

“Which one?” Harry asked, looking down at the map marked with the sensors they had placed to monitor the fissure.

 

“Number 8.”

 

Harry nodded, noting the position.  “What about further evidence of abnormal growth?”

 

Chip expelled a barely discernable breath as he nodded in affirmation.  “That’s an affirmative, Sir.”

 

“Chip, we’ve found the sensor.  Riley is attempting retrieval with the robotic arms.”

 

Harry pursed his lips.  It was a tricky procedure and he almost wished he hadn’t tagged Sharkey for the collection detail, since the Chief had proven his skill in maneuvering the device in the past.  Riley, however, was a skilled seaman and pilot and he was confident the young man was up to the task.

 

A few tense moments passed as they listened to the conversation aboard FS1, while Riley worked to release the anchor from the seabed and then manually grab the sensor without damaging the instrument.

 

“Good job, Riley,” the Captain complimented, “now ease it in slowly.”

 

Harry pursed his lips, unconsciously reacting to the young man’s efforts.  It was a long two minutes before he heard Lee report back to Seaview.

 

“Seaview, we have the sensor on board and secure; proceeding on to the fissure.”

 

Harry released a small, satisfied smile and reached for the mic.

 

“Good job, Lee.”

 

“Thanks, Admiral. ETA to fissure… nine minutes.” 

 

Harry nodded to himself, calculating in his head the remaining three miles at a slow, steady pace of ten knots, far slower than FS1’s top speed, but necessary for the potential unknown dangers ahead.  A few minutes passed, and he briefly considered heading to the lab where the first water samples would surely be waiting for him, but the question of whether the fissure was open piqued his curiosity.

 

“We’re filming now, Seaview,” Lee informed.

 

Chip followed Harry to the monitor in the nose and switched it on where they followed FS1’s progress as it slowly approached Dr. Sterling’s fissure, an opening that reached directly to the earth’s core. 

 

“There it is… Admiral, are you getting this?”

 

Harry strained to make out the live feed when he spotted the fissure opening and raised the mic to answer.  His acknowledgement, however, was interrupted by Lee’s concerned observation.

 

“What is that? Admiral…!”

 

The urgency of Lee’s report was cut-off mid-sentence and replaced with static as the monitor suddenly went black.  The apprehensive admiral immediately reached for the mic.  “Captain Crane, report…  Lee! What’s happening?” he inquired insistently. 

 

Chip headed directly to the Radio Shack while the Admiral continued to hail the flying sub.

 

“Seaview to FS1; come in, FS1.”

 

He repeated the hail several more times before Chip returned. 

 

“Sparks says communications are open, but he’s getting some sort of electrical disruption.”

 

“Mr. Morton!  FS1 is going down!” Kowalski reported prompting Chip and the Admiral’s quick double-step to the sonar station.  “She’s on the bottom,” he added just as they arrived.

 

“Controlled landing?” Harry inquired, scanning the green sonar screen for himself even as he asked the question.

 

Ski took a deep breath.  “Negative, Sir, it was a hard landing,” the sonar operator answered solemnly.

 

Harry reached for the mic on the periscope island behind and clicked.  “Seaview to FS1, come in, FS1.  Lee, answer me!”  He exchanged a worrisome glance with Chip when all they heard was the scratchy sound of static.

 

Chapter Four

 

A blinding pain greeted his first awareness as Lee Crane reached for his head, pulling his hand away abruptly when it produced a stinging pain.  A deep cough added to his headache as his eyes fluttered open and took in his surroundings.  FS1 was bathed in red emergency lights, indicating the flying sub had lost main power.  He swallowed hard and reached once again for his forehead, finding his fingers sticky and wet with blood.  His cognitive resources now returning, albeit slowly, and ignoring his head trauma, he turned toward his silent co-pilot.

 

“Riley,” he called followed by a cough he couldn’t suppress.  The putrid smell of shorted out wires and ghostly wisps of smoke hung in the air.  He called again, but his shipmate didn’t answer.  Unbuckling his seatbelt, he leaned over to examine the young seaman.  “Riley, can you hear me?”

 

When he didn’t receive an answer, he turned his attention to the flying sub’s stricken condition.  The first order of business was to restore power, so he flipped switches and reset the controls, resulting in power being restored as the emergency red lights gave way to complete illumination.  Almost immediately, the radio came to life, producing a sharp shrill that curled his brow in pain.   He screwed his eyes shut to manage the pain until it gave way to a brief fuzzy static sound, followed by Seaview’s insistent hails.

 

“Seaview to FS1; come in, FS1!”

 

Lee coughed again and felt for his throat mic.  “Seaview, this is FS1,” he finally answered, hoping his voice didn’t sound half as weak as he felt just now. 

 

“Lee, its Nelson.  What’s your status?”

 

“We’re… uh… we’re on the bottom.  Power’s been restored.  I’m a little shaken… Riley’s unconscious.”

 

“What happened, Lee?”

 

Crane chuckled humorlessly, but wisely avoided shaking his head. “The biggest electric eel I’ve ever seen,” he replied a bit vaguely, with still not enough information to satisfy the curious and concerned admiral.  “It was at least twenty yards ahead of us; we barely made out what it was… it was just beyond our floodlights.  I uh… think we startled it, we got hit by an electrical current of some kind…”

He stopped to take a breath and closed his eyes attempting to focus.

 

“Captain, this is Dr. Jamieson.  Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

 

“Out of sorts,” he answered quickly and honestly.  He had had head injuries before, but this one felt decidedly different.   With Riley still out cold, now wasn’t the time to be coy with his answers; something was definitely wrong.

 

There was a short pause and then Harry’s voice returned to the mic.

 

“Lee, we think you sustained a significant stun charge from the eel.  Sonar is clear and it looks like the eel has moved on.  Can you pilot her back to Seaview?”

 

Lee cleared his throat.  “I’m feeling better, Sir.  I need to get a better view of the fissure...”

 

“Negative, Captain,” Harry interrupted sharply without delay.  “You’ve got an injured crewman on board, and you’re affected more than you realize.  Let’s just give Doc here a break and bring the flying sub back now,” he added with a bit of pointed humor regarding Jamie’s apparent concern over Lee’s suggestion to move closer to the fissure and softening the blow of his initial scolding tone.

 

Lee glanced over at Riley, realizing that Harry was, of course, right as usual.

 

“Very well, Admiral,” he relented, feeling stronger than before but knowing he still wasn’t on top of his game. 

 

With a long reach, he stretched toward the co-pilot’s console and flipped a switch then adjusted his hands on the dual-stick yoke.  Slowly he raised the yellow, manta-like sub from the seabed, feeling fortunate that their hard-landing had been in this particular spot where there weren’t any jagged rocks to damage the hull.  The flying sub stirred up a silty cloud as it raised high enough for him to add power and bank a turn toward home, then noted Seaview’s vector and programmed the navigation.

 

“Seaview, I’ve got your vectors, I’m turning the craft over to automatic docking,” he advised; his decision a wise result of a noticeable lingering fuzziness in his head.  He did, however, continue to glide FS1, relinquishing controls only once the windowed submarine was in sight.

 

“We’ve got you, Skipper,” Chip Morton’s voice was heard.  “Just sit back and let us do the driving.”

 

Lee cracked a small smile that quickly faded in pain, before allowing his head to rest against the back of his chair and waited as FS1 was remotely docked.  He closed his eyes for what he intended to only be a brief moment but was quickly drawn into a thick, warm blanket of darkness.

 

* * * * *

 

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunk overhead.  The next thing he recognized was the distinct, sterile smell of his least favorite part of the boat.  Only then did he realize that someone was talking to him.

 

“Skipper?  Can you hear me?”

 

Lee turned his head slightly.  “Hi, Jamie,” he greeted rather informally and then spotted both Harry and Chip behind the doctor.  Suddenly, everything that happened aboard FS1 flooded back to his awareness, prompting him to nearly pop out of the bunk.  Jamieson eased him back down with a gentle, but firm hand on his shoulder.  Lee surrendered to Jamie’s insistence to remain in bed, only then realizing that his chest was bare, with EKG electrodes still attached to a portable machine beside the bunk.

 

“How’s Riley?” Lee asked, concerned for his co-pilot and not able to spot him from his current position.

 

“He’s going to be fine,” Jamie assured.  “He sustained a moderate concussion, along with the stun from the eel.”

 

Lee nodded slightly, the blinding headache he’d felt earlier had settled into a dull ache now, and he could barely feel the bandage square above his left eye.  “He had the camera positioned to film the fissure; I think he took a good whack when we scared up the eel,” he surmised, feeling somewhat better and having his wits about him at this point. 

 

“We found the camera,” Harry joined in, stepping closer to speak.  “Fortunately, Riley caught the encounter on film.”

 

Lee’s brow tightened in interest. 

 

“As you said, the flying sub startled the knifefish,” Harry explained, assessing correctly that the creature widely known as the electric eel was actually a type of knifefish and not from the eel family at all, “and he enacted his natural ability to emit an electrical current, which was the catalyst to FS1’s crash, followed by a significant stun.”

 

“It packed quite a punch for being so far away…” Lee noted incredulously.  He was well aware that the electric eel was capable of emitting an electrical current to paralyze its intended prey from quite a distance, something every experienced diver venturing into the tropics was aware and was even a concern for aquarium keepers.  However, the eel was a good fifty to sixty feet from the flying sub when they stirred it from its hiding place on the seafloor. 

 

“From the brief shot we obtained from the film; I’d estimate it to be 20 to 25 feet in length.  Now, if a knifefish in the natural can emit up to 860 volts, the equivalent to one ampere of current,” the admiral explained in detail and quite specifically, “then you can imagine the increased voltage it was capable of emitting when taking into account its mutant size.”

 

“In short, Captain,” Jamie added, “you were quite fortunate to have survived at all, and before you ask, you’ll be my guests here for the rest of the afternoon.”

 

“Jamie…” Lee scowled in protest.

 

“At least until I’ve verified that your heart wasn’t adversely affected by the shock you received.”

 

Lee sighed.  He knew that Jamie was only doing his job, and he had been zapped hard enough to knock him out… twice.

 

“Fine, Jamie,” he relented, “but after you verify that my ticker is okay… how long before I’m back in the Control Room?”

 

Jamie ignored the soft snicker from the Admiral behind him and maintained his calm, professional demeanor.  “I’ve already got a baseline EKG, and so far, everything looks good.  Unlike our young friend over there,” Jamie added, with a tilt of his head toward Riley, who was tucked into a bunk across sickbay, “you managed to escape a concussion.  If you take it easy, I’ll be able to release you to light duty.  Just humor me for a few more hours, Skipper,” he added sympathetically, fully understanding the seriousness of their mission and Seaview’s need to have her captain at the helm.

 

Lee agreed with a slight nod while Jamie turned to see to Riley across the room.  “What’s our status, Chip?” Lee asked.

 

“We’re stationary, sitting at 200 feet while we wait for the flying sub to be checked out and repaired,” the blond replied. 

 

“It looked like the fissure was open,” Lee recalled, but not quite sure of his facts given the eel had interrupted their observation so suddenly.

 

“Yes,” the Admiral answered.  “We only had a brief look on film, and though I would prefer more study, I think you verified that the fissure is, indeed, open.”

 

Lee nodded lightly.  That was at least one questioned answered, his forehead tightening at the next question.  “What about the seismic sensor we retrieved?”

 

“It’s sitting in my lab,” Harry answered.  “I was just getting to it when Doc reported that you were coming to.”

 

Lee rested his head a little deeper into his pillow.  “I’m all right, Admiral, just a little tired,” he offered while the soft hums of the cardiac monitor beeped out a strong, steady beat beside his bed.

 

Perceiving his friend could use some sleep just now, Chip stepped in closer.  “I’d better head back to the Control Room,” he announced releasing a small smile and allowing his relief to show through his normally unreadable, blue eyes.

 

“Thanks, Chip.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” the XO added, returning to shipboard decorum and imparting confidence that Lee would be back in command in no time.  He stepped away, his smile fading immediately as he departed sickbay, anxious to return to the Control Room to monitor the potential menaces this dangerous part of the ocean presented.

 

Now alone, Harry stepped closer watching Lee carefully for reassurance that he wasn’t adversely affected.

 

Sensing he was being sized up, Lee chuckled lightly.  “I’m really all right, Admiral.  Admittedly, the stun charge was more than I would have ever expected, but I’ll be back on my feet in a few hours.”

 

“I don’t want you to push your recovery, Lee,” Harry cautioned.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured his friend and mentor.

 

Harry took in a deep breath, pursing his lips and making a conscious decision to accept Lee’s self-assessment, expelling it and then smiling.  “Well then, I’d better get back to the lab before the Captain of the boat starts demanding answers I don’t have yet,” he jested, smiling thinly, though his eyes twinkled with the humor.   

 

Lee chuckled in return and expelled a silent breath as Harry departed.  Soft voices drew his attention across the room, where Jamie was taking Riley through the standard concussion inquisition.  Seaview’s youngest seaman was only half-awake and not quite lucid.  Lee grimaced in empathy at the headache Stu was complaining of and then closed his eyes to rest.  He didn’t want anything to derail his plans of being back in the Control Room this afternoon, so he allowed himself to take advantage of the down time and drifted off to sleep.  He rested so deeply, that he didn’t even notice when Jamie walked by to read the output from the heart monitor, before returning to his desk to update the medical files of his two patients.

 

* * * * *

 

Harry returned to his lab and firstly, checked in with the Control Room.

 

“We’re tracking another large biologic twelve degrees off the port bow,” the Exec reported, “other than that, it’s quiet.”

 

“Very well, keep me informed, Chip,” Harry answered.  The news of the pleasure yacht being attacked earlier could very well indicate that the creature they were searching for had settled to the bottom to digest.  It was a gruesome thought that the seasoned admiral couldn’t ignore.

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

Upon receiving an update from Chip, he shipped the mic and turned to the duties at hand.  He noticed another round of water samples on the table with Sharkey’s initial time, temperature, and salinity readings already labeled; next to the samples sat the sensor Lee had retrieved.  Rubbing an assessing hand across his chin, then decided to start the chemical analysis on his latest batch of water samples before diving into the mystery of why all of the seismic sensors had universally malfunctioned.  Barring any unforeseen issues, he’d have an answer before Lee returned to duty.

 

Chapter Five

 

Lee rounded the spiral stairs down into the Control Room.  Other than the white bandage square on his forehead, and the fact that he had opted to forego the necktie, there was no visible indication that he’d spent the last four hours in sickbay recovering from an electric eel attack.  He was determined and focused as he crossed the deck, taking in the boat’s condition and readiness for action in one seamless sweep of his eyes across the stations. 

 

“Status, Mr. Morton?” he inquired as he neared the chart table.

 

“Stationary at 200 feet; trim satisfactory, Sir,” the blond exec responded pointing to Seaview’s current position on the chart.  He was privately pleased to see his best friend back on his feet again, but offered no outward hint of his satisfaction.  Likewise, the moment passed without any fanfare from the relieved crewmen as the Captain of Seaview resumed his duties as if nothing had happened.

 

“What about contacts on sonar?” Lee asked.

 

“We’re tracking two biologics, but bow-lookout has identified them as both non-predatory and, so far, they’ve offered no threat to Seaview.”

 

“Very well, what about the sensor?” he asked, while signing off on the logbook and multitasking with ease.

 

Chip chuckled dryly.  “I haven’t seen hide-nor-hair of the Admiral since sickbay.  Sharkey reports he has all the water samples he wants from this position and has been focused solely on the sensor for several hours now.”

 

“Very well, I’ll check in on him,” he replied, stowing the logbook and heading aft.  Any other time, he might have smiled and chuckled fondly at the thought of Harry so engrossed in his work.  This time, however, he found nothing light-hearted about the fact that there was a two-ton killer squid lurking somewhere in the region and a dozen seismic sensors that had failed to register a quake large enough to open Sterling’s fissure. 

 

* * * * *

 

“Come in,” a distracted voice called from behind the laboratory door.

 

Lee entered to find the Admiral hunched over the delicate electronic sensor.

 

“How’s is coming, Admiral?”

 

Harry sat up straight, pleasantly surprised to hear Lee’s voice behind him.  “Fine, fine,” he answered, quickly appraising Seaview’s captain and, just as quickly, assessing him as fit for duty.  “Well, maybe ‘fine’ isn’t the right word for it,” he amended with a guarded smile that indicated his sarcasm wasn’t just meant to keep the mood light.

 

Lee snagged the nearby stool closer and straddled it.  “What do you mean?”

 

Harry turned toward Lee, his expression immediately changing to match the mystery his next words presented.  “When I opened the backing on the sensor, I fully expected to see the electronics fried…”

 

“Perhaps, by the electric eel?” Lee finished for him, indicating he’d had some time to consider the puzzling question while stuck in sickbay.

 

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed animatedly, “but look,” he said, directing Lee’s attention back to the instrument in question.  “Everything checks out, and by all electronic indications, this sensor should be working.”  He demonstrated his point by making a connection to one of the electronic leads, producing a confirming light that remained lit until he withdrew the disconnection.  He repeated the process on another lead, producing the same output.  “I’ve checked every connection, and there’s just no good reason I can think of that explains why this sensor isn’t working,” he said.

 

“So, what’s your next step?” Lee questioned, sensing Harry might have been frustrated but was far from defeated by the enigma. 

 

Harry grinned at Lee’s perception.  “You’re just in time to help me prove my hypothesis.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“That the sensor is in perfect working order,” Harry returned cleverly.

 

Lee raised an eyebrow at the paradoxical experiment that would prove that a sensor that hadn’t registered a probable and very significant quake was, in fact, in perfect working condition.  “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Just observe,” he said then directed Lee’s attention to a device on another table.  “We’re receiving the data from Santa Barbara, and this seismometer will graph the results.”  He pursed his lips, looking over both the sensor and the graphing device and then smiled almost gleefully.  “This won’t exactly be a scientific study, since I don’t have a means of measuring the amount of shake I’m applying,” the admiral qualified, then grinned slyly and tapped the table to simulate a small tremor.  Exactly one second later the needle scribbled out the expected activity a minor “quake” might produce.

 

“Note the delay in the graphing,” Harry pointed out, “the readings are recorded in live time, but for the data to be received in Santa Barbara, the sensors have to be plugged into a data feed cable.  The cable is connected to a junction box on a nearby island some two hundred miles from here, and then fed by satellite to Santa Barbara.  To consolidate the readings, eleven sensors are networked together to the twelfth sensor, which in turn, is hard-wired to the data cable.  It’s a round-about way to test the sensor, but I wanted to see exactly what the seismologist at the lab is seeing over two-thousand miles away,” he explained.

 

Lee watched as Harry examined the graph.  Though it did appear they were going about it the long way around to obtain the seismograph readings, Lee was convinced that this experiment had been well-planned by the admiral and would serve some specific purpose to his discoveries.

 

“It looks like a 1.7 on the Richter Scale,” he announced and then readied for the next “quake”, this time holding both hands on the table and giving it a good shake.  Another second later, the needle scribbled out another reading.  This time however, it produced an unexpected result.

 

“1.6,” Harry stated flatly, raising an eyebrow at the obvious incorrect reading for the good shaking he had rendered.

 

“Then the sensor is malfunctioning,” Lee concluded.

 

“All twelve sensors?” Harry asked, not ready to succumb to the “obvious” conclusion just yet.

 

“It does seem rather convenient,” the captain agreed.

 

Harry recorded his findings and continued.  “Let’s just see what we get again,” he stated, undaunted by the mystery of the false reading.

 

He gave the table another good shake, noting a reading of 1.9 and then followed it up with a slight tremor produced by a light tap that registered 1.6 again.

 

“Perhaps the electric current from the eel damaged the circuits,” Lee offered with a shrug.

 

“Or perhaps… the sensor is working perfectly,” the Admiral announced in a bombshell observation that was met immediately with a frown from his current lab partner.

 

“I don’t follow,” Lee admitted.

 

“It’s just an idea I have, but it would explain a good deal of things, including the fact that the water samples I’ve examined verify that the fissure is open,” Harry replied and pursed his lips before continuing.  “As I said before, these are the readings that Santa Barbara is receiving,” he said, picking up a screwdriver and adjusting the sensor as he spoke.  “What I’m going to do now, is disconnect the network to the cable and hardwire this sensor directly to my seismometer,” he explained.  He fiddled a few more minutes connecting a wire from the sensor to the seismometer and then looked over his work, satisfying himself that everything was ready.  “Now, let’s see what we get,” he said, almost as if he already knew what the outcome was going to be. 

 

He tapped the table.  This time there was no delay, as the seismometer graphed out the response.

 

“A one point five,” Harry read, interpreting the graph handily.

 

Next, he added a healthy shake to the table.  Immediately the seismometer reacted in a violent eruption of sharp peaks and valleys.  Lee stood, looking over Harry’s shoulder as the admiral read the graph.

 

“Five point six,” Harry said victoriously.  “The sensor is working; it’s the output that’s flawed.”

 

Lee put his hands in his back pocket and bit his bottom lip in thought.  “Tell me, Admiral, what are the chances of a malfunctioning cable producing data like this?”

 

Harry sighed.  “Well, anything’s possible, but I think you know where I’m going with this.” 

 

Lee nodded, pursing his bottom lip.  “Each simulated quake produced a false reading under 2.0…”

 

“The threshold for reporting out of the ordinary activity in the area,” Harry finished.  “None of those readings would have signaled any further query by the seismologist; they would have been noted, categorized, and logged… and that’s all,” he noted solemnly.

 

Lee expelled a breath.  What Harry was proposing was nothing to be taken lightly.  If it were true, then someone opened the fissure purposely and went to great lengths to keep their handiwork a secret.  Considering the lives lost from the giant squid, the whole thing bordered on sinister. 

 

“Let’s just say for a moment that your theory is correct.  How do we prove it?”

 

Harry responded with a resigned shrug.  “It’s possible that modifications were made with the twelfth sensor, the networking sensor.”

 

“What about the cable, Admiral?  We have 200 miles of cable that could have been tampered with, it could have been spliced and the data intercepted and modified anywhere along the cable.”

 

“Or someone could have intercepted the Satellite transmission, for that matter,” Harry replied, “both options would require a great deal of sophistication in computer programming; in either case, a few adjustments in the networking sensor would do the trick.”

 

“To what end?” the frustrated captain asked as he paced the deck.  “What could anyone possibly hope to gain by going to these lengths?”

 

“The same thing Sterling was after,” Harry said sitting forward with hands folded on the table.  “A look into the earth’s core could revolutionize the elemental chart.  The advancements we could make with any number of possible discoveries are simply mind-numbing,” he answered excitedly.

 

Lee stopped pacing and turned sharply toward Harry.  “Whoever did this isn’t after scientific discoveries, Admiral,” he ventured boldly.  They had gone to far too much trouble to keep their activities a secret, with far too many people dying in the wake of their furtiveness.

 

Harry leaned forward and expelled a breath, speaking calmly but darkly.  “I agree.  Someone has an agenda, and the sooner we discover what that is, the better.”

 

Lee nodded in agreement; his concern palpable.  “Then we have two potential problems; a giant, man-eating squid, and whoever is behind all of this,” he said throwing his hands up in the air before turning back toward the Admiral at his next thought.  “No one’s going to believe us until we have proof,” he predicted.

 

“Then I had better retrieve the twelfth sensor,” Harry delivered evenly.

 

“Admiral…” Lee started in protest, still weak from his run-in with the giant eel and painfully aware of the dangers lurking in these particular waters.

 

“It can’t be helped, Lee.  We’ve got to have proof, but first things first,” he interjected.

 

“We need to seal the fissure,” Lee answered for him.

 

“And hope that whoever is behind this, isn’t waiting to stop us,” the perceptive admiral added.

 

A silent moment passed before Lee walked briskly to the mic on the wall and snagged it up.  “Mr. Morton, bring the boat to general quarters.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” the XO responded dutifully.

 

Captain Crane shipped the mic to the sound of klaxons booming and red alert lights flashing as Seaview prepared for battle stations, readying herself for whatever dangers lay ahead, be it man or beast.

 

Chapter Six

 

 

The flying sub dropped effortlessly from her berth as she was launched into the inky depths of the South Pacific, leaving behind the shelter and relative safety of the larger submarine. 

 

“FS1 has cleared the bay doors,” Chip announced.

 

“Very well,” Admiral Nelson’s voice was heard on the com.

 

Lee watched from the windows as the flying sub engaged its engines and glided into his view, illuminated by the flood lights on Seaview’s bow.

 

“Report, sonar,” the captain ordered.

 

“Large contact fifty-two degrees off the starboard bow, Sir.”

 

“Hydrophones?” he inquired, moving behind Ski’s chair to evaluate the contact for himself.

 

“Some sort of biologic, Sir,” Patterson reported.

 

“Very well, keep on it,” he admonished, reaching for the mic on the periscope island.  “Admiral, sonar reports a contact off your starboard, about two miles out.”

 

“Affirmative, Lee.  We have it on our scope as well,” Harry responded, “engaging the low-frequency emission.”

 

“This had better work,” Chip noted quietly while sidling next to Seaview’s Captain as they both studied the green sonar screen.

 

Such frequencies were already in use by scientists in order to keep curious sea creatures from damaging sensitive equipment beneath the sea.  In this case, however, no one knew the effect the frequencies might have on the mutated sea life.

 

“It has to,” Lee responded, his concern for the two occupants of the flying sub kept barely in check.       He continued to watch the monitor his eyes narrowing in approval at the sharp turn the contact made before raising the mic to speak again.  “Admiral, it looks the biologic responded and is moving away.”

 

“Good, good,” Harry responded emotionlessly. 

 

Lee expelled a silent breath, the momentary relief overshadowed by a heavy feeling in his gut.  He resisted the urge to rub his forehead, the gauze over his brow a constant reminder that it should be him out there taking the chances.  Likewise, he ignored the constant weariness of a body that demanded more rest than he was willing to give it just now.  There would be no rest until the fissure was closed and Harry was back aboard safely.  After that, their focus would turn toward neutralizing the killer squid, and finding out just who had gone to such extreme lengths to secretly open the fissure in the first place.  

 

“Keep a sharp eye out, Kowalski,” he admonished.  “We may not have too many chances to get this right.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Ski responded dutifully as the entire Control Room felt the gravity of their dangerous mission.

 

* * * * *

 

Like Lee, Harry was pleased that the low-frequency emission he had modified seemed to be working, but he hadn’t the time, nor the inclination to celebrate the feat as of yet and turned his attention to the task at hand. 

 

“Camera ready?” he inquired of his co-pilot.

 

“All ready, Sir,” an exuberant Chief Sharkey replied.

 

“Steady now,” Harry instructed before activating his mic and leaving it open this time.  “Lee, we’re approaching the fissure.”

 

“Aye Sir, good luck.”

 

Harry resisted a smile, though he never relied on such things, a little bit of good fortune just now would be highly welcomed.  His lips pursed in concentration as the flying sub’s floodlights reached ahead to reveal the wreckage of the imploded sea dome, once Dr. Sterling’s undersea laboratory, now merely a host for barnacles and sea life.  Very little of the yellow dome was visible as the sea claimed the doomed lab for its newest habitat.  A twinge of regret passed through him as he remembered the lovely Karen Sloane, so devoted to the scientist that she refused to leave the dome even after Sterling went mad, her unfailing love sealing her fate in the cold depths of an unforgiving sea.  He refocused as FS1 approached the fissure and circled it. 

 

“Are you getting this, Lee?”

 

“Aye Sir,” he acknowledged distractedly while taking in the white plume of a chimney smoker, a hydrothermal vent fueled from geothermal heat directly from the earth’s core. 

 

Harry banked the agile, yellow submarine and circled widely, studying the vent from every angle.  By his second pass he had analyzed the situation and was ready to offer a solution.

 

“It looks like we’re going to need two precisely aimed, simultaneous laser strikes to cork the vent and fuse the rocks into a seal.”  He banked for another pass, continuing to scrutinize the vent.  “With Seaview’s help, I think we have a good chance of sealing the vent,” he added confidently.

 

“Aye, Sir, we’ll move in.”

 

“I need a few minutes to collect water samples from the vent,” Harry interjected.

 

“Admiral…”

 

“We’ll collect the samples remotely, but if we’re successful, this will be our only opportunity to obtain the most elemental rich and concentrated samples.”

 

A short pause indicated that Seaview’s Captain was considering the proposition before he spoke again. 

 

“Very well, Admiral.  Will fifteen minutes suffice?”

 

Harry chuckled lightly at the question, which he correctly interpreted to mean that Lee was anxious to seal the vent and that fifteen minutes was on the generous side of what he could offer.

 

“Fifteen minutes will do nicely,” Harry answered calmly, his smile fading as he turned his attention to the matter at hand.  “Chief, stow the camera and ready the robotic arms to retrieve three water samples.”

 

Sharkey’s acknowledgement was immediate as he got down to business while Harry decided upon the best location to station the flying sub.

 

“This will do,” he announced a moment later as he settled FS1 into position.  “Ready, Chief?” 

 

“Aye Sir,” he responded, testing the robotic arms with his double joystick controls.

 

“Very well, proceed.”

 

Harry watched as the first sample was obtained and stored inside the collection chamber. 

 

“Got it,” Sharkey announced, pleased with his work thus far and stowing the robotic arms.

 

“All right, let’s move to our next collection coordinates,” Harry said, moving to the next sample retrieval point which had been carefully selected to optimize data relevance.  A few minutes later, Sharkey was busy retrieving another sample as Harry, pencil in hand, documented their position on his clipboard.  Once completed, they moved to their third position and quickly finished off the desired samples.

 

“Do you really think we can seal it up, Admiral?” Sharkey inquired in his usual candidness with the four-star admiral.

 

“There’s always the possibility that something could go wrong, but yes, I think we have a real chance of sealing the vent,” he replied.

 

“But all that pressure?” Sharkey questioned, referring to the tremendous amount of pressure propelling the gas from the earth’s core to the seafloor.

 

“I’m aware of that,” he answered less-than patiently, “but once we seal the fissure the gas will have to find another path, and there’s a good chance that it will settle into whatever alternate route it was utilizing before it was unnaturally opened,” he finished with all the fervor of a man passionate about his science.

 

“I don’t know about such things, but if you say so, Sir, that’s good enough for me,” he stated in complete confidence of Seaview’s creator, before realizing something.  “Wait a minute!” he interjected, “You said ‘unnaturally’.  You don’t think the fissure was opened by someone on purpose?” he asked incredulously.

 

“It’s looking like that, Chief,” Harry replied, ending the conversation and reaching to his throat mic to switch from manual to VOX, where the voice activated communication system would keep the line open for continual communication with Seaview. 

 

“Lee, we’re ready for you now,” he informed.

 

“Aye Sir.  Deterrent Frequency engaged.  Ahead dead slow, Mr. Morton.”

 

Sharkey studied FS1’s sonar monitor, tracking the large submarine’s approach and listening to the normal course of orders being relayed and acknowledged via the VOX mode, while Harry continued to study the vent, satisfying himself of the best places to target the lasers in order to seal the fissure.

 

“Admiral?”  Sharkey interrupted.

 

“Hmmm?” Harry replied, dividing his interest between the vent and the Chief’s inquiry.

 

“What do you make of this?” Sharkey asked, but before the Admiral could respond he yelled, “The seamount is moving!”

 

Followed immediately by Captain Crane’s exclamation from Seaview, “Admiral, it’s the squid!”

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

Lee leaned over Kowalski’s shoulder watching a large green blob moving across the sonar screen in the opposite direction of Seaview’s approach.  The large contact had revealed itself suddenly; they had in fact, mistaken the previously stationary object as the seamount charted on their maps.  The object had concealed itself against the mount, its position completely stealth until it suddenly moved.

 

“Hydrophones?” the Captain inquired succinctly.

 

“Non-mechanical, Sir,” Patterson replied.

 

“It looks like we might catch a view from our port camera,” Chip inserted from the captain’s side.

 

Lee nodded in agreement.  “Monitor on,” he ordered.

 

The momentary fuzz of the monitor quickly sharpened into an underwater view of the sea, but the silt stirred up from the object took a moment to clear before they were able to catch a glimpse of a gigantic tentacle. 

 

Hastily, Lee snagged the mic.  “Admiral, it’s the squid!”

 

“We have the same reading on sonar, Lee.  Are you sure it’s the squid?”

 

“Affirmative, we had a quick visual before it moved out of camera range,” Lee answered, leaning over the sonar station as Ski made adjustments to track the creature within Seaview’s twenty-file mile radius.

 

“It’s moving away from our present position,” the Admiral observed.  “I would venture to postulate that the deterrent frequency worked.  When Seaview moved in, it was compelled to move on.”

 

The large mass had moved a safe distance away and was now stationary once again, the creature apparently unaffected from its current position.

 

“It’s settled about ten miles off our port bow, Admiral.”

 

“Hmmm,” the admiral pondered.  “Keep tracking the creature’s movements; we’ll deal with it in due course.  Continue onto the fissure.”

 

Lee bit his bottom lip, studying the stationary green blob on sonar and then nodded in agreement.  Though he couldn’t afford to lose the killer-squid, he was well aware that the open fissure was the root cause of the current crisis and was, therefore, their greatest priority.

 

“Very well, Admiral.  Steady as she goes, Mr. Morton.”

 

He lingered only a moment longer at sonar, then added an encouraging pat to Ski’s shoulder.  “Keep on it, Kowalski,” he admonished and headed to the chart table.  “ETA, Mr. Morton?”

 

“About six minutes, Skipper,” Chip answered.

 

Lee reached for the mic.  “Admiral, ETA in six minutes.”

 

“Your vector looks good.  Stay on your present course and hold 100 yards from the vent.” 

 

“Aye, 100 yards.”

 

Lee stowed the mic and focused his attention out Seaview’s windows.  The submarine’s slow approach inched their progress along as Seaview’s floodlights lit her path in the otherwise darkened world of the undersea.

 

“Tracking a contact, just inside our sonar grid,” Ski reported.

 

“The squid?” Lee inquired, his brow tightened in heightened concern.

 

“Negative, a new contact.  It’s holding steady at twenty-miles off our starboard stern.”

 

“Very well,” Lee acknowledged, satisfied that the deterrent frequency was so far, providing a corridor of safety for them to work.  He continued focusing on the windows for a few minutes before catching a small hint of the flying sub’s yellow hull.  “Admiral, we have you on visual.”

 

“You’re lined up perfectly,” Harry informed.  “Move into position and we’ll do the same.”

 

“Aye Sir,” he acknowledged, sharpening his attention on their current path.  “Steady on, Mr. Morton,” he coaxed as the large submarine inched closer to the vent.  “Steady… steady…,” he guided before ordering, “All stop.”

 

Chip echoed the order and helm responded with Seaview inching into position, her approach perfectly timed by Lee as the sub’s momentum stopped an impressive 100 yards from the vent, just as her captain intended.

 

“All stop; trim satisfactory, Skipper,” Chip reported, joining Lee in the Nose.

 

“There’s thousands of vents just like this scattered across the globe,” Lee said in a quiet, whimsical voice.  “It’s hard to believe this one could be the cause of so much death and destruction.”

 

Chip nodded, both men taking in what looked like an ordinary vent, spewing a white cloud of steam; they had both seen hundreds of them.  This one, however, vented all the way from the earth’s core.  Its white plume of heated water was loaded with rich elemental properties; at least one was responsible for the mutant growth of the various sea creatures they had seen thus far, or perhaps it was a combination of elements in their raw form, they didn’t know which at this point.  They only knew it had to be sealed.

 

“We’re in position, Lee,” Harry’s voice was heard over the com.

 

“Aye Sir,” he acknowledged, leaving behind the reflective moment and moving directly to the laser, adjusting the sighting unit to his height and locating his objective.  “I’ve got it in my sights, Admiral.”

 

“Very well, aim for the base.  At my mark, we’ll initiate a fifteen second blast.”

 

“Did you say fifteen seconds?” Lee confirmed, concerned that a sustained blast would concentrate the laser beam’s destructive force to the point of liquefying the bed rock.

 

“Affirmative, fifteen seconds exactly,” he replied, emphasizing the last word.  “If my calculations are correct, the initial blast will collapse the chimney over the vent and heat the rocks to the molten threshold at 600 degrees Celsius; the sea water will then cool the rock and provide a seal,” he explained.

 

“Aye Sir,” Lee acknowledged, confident in Harry’s calculations as he leaned into the unit and removed the trigger safety.  “Very well.  Chip, countdown for us,” he directed.  “On your order, Admiral.”

 

“All right,” Harry said, making ready from FS1.  “Ready… aim… fire,” he directed, at which point both he and Lee concentrated fire power on their respective targets as Chip counted off the seconds in the background.

 

“… thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.”

 

“Cease fire,” Harry ordered.

 

Lee released the trigger but continued to view the target from the sighting device.  A few seconds passed before the silt cleared enough to witness the red glow of the collapsed vent begin to harden.  The bedrock underneath would take longer to cool, but he was confident that Admiral Nelson had taken that calculation into consideration.

 

“Undersea quake, Sir,” Patterson reported from hydrophones. 

 

Chip moved to the computer behind helm and retrieved a read-out.  “Two point six, Skipper,” he recited.

 

Lee nodded, not expecting a significant shockwave from the minor quake.  “Did you get that, Admiral?”

 

“An expected outcome as the gas is rerouted to its alternate course,” the Admiral explained.  “Position Seaview to a safe distance to monitor the vent.”

 

“Aye, Sir.  Mr. Morton, all back slow and make preparations to dock the flying sub,” the Captain ordered, stowing the laser sights overhead as he spoke.

 

“We’re not quite ready to dock yet, Lee,” Harry informed.

 

Lee made brisk steps toward the chart table and snagged up the mic.  “Admiral, you’ll have a rough ride if a significant quake hits; not to mention the fact that the squid is still out there,” he argued fervently.

 

“I’m aware of that,” Harry placated, “but we’re in a position to retrieve the twelfth sensor and we need to collect more water samples to determine if the vent is indeed sealed,” Harry countered in what he obviously considered the next reasonable course of action. 

 

Lee held the mic in his hand, weighing Harry’s point.  The twelfth sensor potentially held the evidence to prove that someone had sabotaged the sensor array.  However, even that important detail wasn’t his first priority at this point.

 

“Sonar, has the squid moved?” the Captain inquired over his shoulder.

 

“Negative Sir,” Kowalski replied.

 

“Admiral, I don’t want to lose the squid.  If it gets antsy, we’re going to have to go after it.”

 

“I agree, but it’s very likely that after its last attack it’s in a resting state,” he noted without saying the obvious, that the squid had just fed and was likely digesting.  “Continue to transmit the deterrent frequency from Seaview; we’ll turn off the frequency emitter from our side.  That should keep the squid from reacting to our movements while preventing the creature from moving back in until we’re finished.”

 

Lee expelled a breath of resignation then raised the mic.  “Very well, Admiral, but I want FS1 ready to bug out at either the first sign of the squid moving or if seismic activity increases,” he admonished, well within his rights as captain to make this demand, even with the flag ranking officer.

 

“Fine, Lee,” Harry answered distractedly, confident that Seaview’s Captain would see things his way and already making preparations to carry out his objectives.

 

Lee raised a tired hand to his brow, his fingers brushing lightly against the gauze on his forehead, having nearly forgotten it was there in the busyness of his duties.

 

“Are you all right, Lee?” Chip asked in quiet concern.

 

“I’m fine, Chip,” the tall captain replied, accepting his friend’s concern but ready to move on.  “I just wish the Admiral wasn’t right about the sensor.”

 

Chip nodded, he’d been briefed and knew what was at stake.  “You’re right as well, Lee.  We can’t allow the squid to escape.  We know where it is right now.”

 

“We’re not going to allow it to escape,” he shot back aggressively, the grainy picture of a small emergency raft surrounded by enormous tentacles ingrained in his mind, along with the realization of how many lives had been lost thus far. 

 

Their eyes met with the passion of Lee’s statement boring into his first officer’s, alluding that failure wasn’t an option regarding the squid.

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Chip agreed, adding his own confidence to the captain’s statement then turned toward the Control Room.  “All right men, look alive.  We have work to do,” he admonished, instilling the same urgency in the men that Captain Crane had given him.

 

Lee checked his watch and then turned toward the windows.  Seaview was stationed half a mile from the fissure, too far to monitor the flying sub’s progress from this distance, but his focus drawn to the sea, nonetheless, as he pondered the all-to-familiar quandary.  Though not the exact scenario, he was aware that the two of them had played out similar dilemmas before:  Harry pushing the safety envelope in the name of truth or scientific exploration, and him, balancing the well-being of Seaview and her crew; the least of which, included a stubborn four-star admiral who had the irritating propensity to nearly always being right in his assessments.  He smiled briefly at the thought until the smile faded as the momentary humor waned, giving way to the reality of the dangerous venture.   His responsibility for every soul aboard Seaview was an inescapable burden of command, but knowing that his best friend was so vulnerable at the moment, made the load on his shoulders all the heavier.

 

Be careful, Admiral, he urged silently before turning back to the Control Room to focus all his efforts on the mission.

 

* * * * *

 

“The last water sample has been retrieved, Sir,” Sharkey reported while stowing the robotic arms.

 

“Good,” Harry replied, reaching for his throat mic.  “Lee, we have the water samples and are proceeding to the sensor.”

 

“Very well, Admiral.  We’re tracking the squid; so, far, he’s content to stay where he is for the moment.”

 

Harry nodded; his assumption that the squid was digesting was, so far, holding true.  It was a good thing, because even at ten miles out, a creature of its enormous size was capable of covering a lot of ocean very quickly.  “Very well, ETA from present position… six minutes.” 

 

“Ready, Chief?” Harry asked, having received the sign-off from Seaview.

 

“Aye, Sir, samples are stowed and the robotic arms secure,” Sharkey replied, settling into his seat and readying himself for his next orders.

 

“Um-hmm,” Harry replied in a familiar closed-mouthed response he often used when multi-tasking.  A moment of silence passed as he turned to the heading of the sensor in question.

 

“Uh… Admiral?  I’m confused about something,” Sharkey asked once on their way.

 

“Oh? What’s that?” he replied rather nonchalantly; their friendship, despite the difference in rank, affording a somewhat different conversation than one might suppose.

 

“We have no idea how long the sensors have been giving us bad readings; right?”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“Then, uh… why aren’t there more over-sized sea creatures out here.  I mean, we’ve seen a couple, but man, the size of that squid would suggest we should have run into far more,” he postulated.

 

“The ‘size of that squid’, as you say, is exactly the reason why we haven’t,” Harry answered matter-of-factly then continued when the look on Sharkey’s face registered his confusion.  “As the squid grew, its need for a sustained food supply grew as well.  The only natural prey of giant squid are whales, which were frankly not a threat any longer; but my guess is, it didn’t have to hunt far for food large enough to satisfy its hunger near the fissure… at least, not right away.  I believe that its food supply began to run low and that’s why the attacks escalated in the last six weeks or so.  The food supply is also the probable reason why the squid’s hunting grounds centered around the fissure,” he hypothesized further, “resulting in its incredibly large size and obvious appetite.”

 

Sharkey blew a breath and shook his head incredulously.  “Just how are we going to kill it, Admiral?”

 

“First things first, Chief,” Harry replied somewhat sharply, though Sharkey knew it was his passion speaking, not a rebuke.  “Let’s retrieve the sensor and get back to Seaview, but I’ve got an idea that I think will work,” he finished mysteriously with a thin grin.

 

“Aye, aye, Admiral.  Sensor dead ahead,” he replied, dutifully placing his full attention on the matter at hand.

 

The yellow manta-like craft glided through the depths with ease as Nelson guided her skillfully toward the twelfth sensor.

 

“There it is,” Sharkey note, pointing just ahead.

 

“I see it,” Harry responded, both men’s attention fixed on the flashing light denoting the sensor’s position.

 

“Admiral,” Captain Crane’s voice was heard on the radio filled with controlled concern.  “Be aware that the squid moved inward about a quarter- mile.  It may be getting antsy.”

 

“Very well, Lee.  We’re here on site.  We’ll wrap this up in just a few minutes.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“All right, Chief.  It looks like we’re only going to get one chance at this, so let’s get it right,” Harry admonished lightly.

 

“Aye, Admiral,” the spunky noncom replied, wrapping his hands around the control sticks and testing the robotic arms. 

 

“Obviously, this isn’t my first choice,” Harry explained.  “But I’m afraid it will just have to do, since we can’t dive in these contaminated waters,” he said, referring to the fact that the sensor was going to be retrieved remotely by severing the hardwire connection to the data cable with a laser cutting tool that he controlled.

 

It took a few minutes for Sharkey to secure the sensor and another minute for Harry to sever the wires before the electronic device was freed.

 

“Admiral, the creature has made another adjustment in position.  It could be an indication that’s its ready to move.”

 

“Acknowledged.  We just need one minute to secure the sensor.” 

 

Lee’s reply was less than enthusiastic and Harry could tell Seaview’s captain was apprehensive about the possibility of losing the squid, but they were so close.  Only a minute more, he coaxed silently as Sharkey remotely maneuvered the sensor into the collection chamber.

 

“Got it, Admiral,” Sharkey announced proudly.

 

“Good work, Chief,” he complimented.  “Now, I need one more water sample.”

 

Sharkey winced, hesitating only slightly before throwing caution to the wind to voice his concern.  “But Admiral, the Skipper seems pretty anxious about that monster-squid-thing,” he reminded respectfully while attempting not to be perceived as questioning the admiral.

 

“It will only take three minutes if you start now,” he countered with a voice that harbored a cool, collective, don’t-question-the admiral tone.

 

Sharkey cleared his throat and complied, “Aye Sir.”  He knew that when the Admiral used that particular tone, there was no use arguing any further.  He was lucky the Old Man didn’t bust him back to Seaman Recruit for questioning his orders in the first place, but serving aboard Seaview had afforded him a unique relationship with arguably the Navy’s finest flag ranking officer.  Still, he knew his limits and more importantly, he trusted Admiral Nelson.  Focusing his attention on the duty at hand, he worked diligently to retrieve the water sample within the three minutes that Nelson expected.  Upon completing his task, he couldn’t help but smile.  “Sample retrieved, robotic arms stowed,” he reported.

 

“Fine, Chief,” Harry replied with a hint of satisfaction while reaching for his throat to activate the mic.  “Lee, we’re done here; returning to Seaview.”

 

“Aye Sir, we’re ready to receive you.”

 

The captain’s voice held a measured amount of relief as Harry turned the flying sub about and made a direct line toward Seaview.

 

“I’m sure glad that frequency you rigged on Seaview was enough to keep the squid from moving in,” Sharkey added with a grin.  “And you did say you had an idea of how to kill it?” he probed hopefully.

 

“That I do, Chief, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.  In fact,” he chuckled lightly, “I’m pretty sure Captain Crane isn’t going to like it either,” he said with a wry grin.

 

* * * * *

 

“Admiral, you’ve got to be kidding?” Lee exclaimed incredulously.  Harry and Sharkey had come aboard over two hours ago and he had barely uttered three words to him.  Instead, the Admiral had checked the squid’s position on sonar, ordered the water samples and seismic sensor taken to his lab, then disappeared out the aft hatch taking Chief Sharkey with him.

 

“It’s the only way to ensure the squid is destroyed,” the admiral countered calmly as Sharkey made himself as ‘small’ as possible on the other side of the room, attempting to look busy and uninvolved in the impending battle between Seaview’s Creator and her Master and Commander.  Though appreciated, Sharkey’s effort to remain uninvolved wasn’t quite enough as Lee turned toward him. 

 

“Chief, would you give us a moment?”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” the uncomfortable COB replied, happy to leave his two commanding officers to work out their divergent plans of action in private.

 

Upon Sharkey’s departure, Lee walked across the room, leaned against the table and folded him arms across his chest defiantly.  “Now, explain to me how making yourself bait for a man-eating squid is going to help anything.”

 

Chapter Eight

 

Admiral Harriman Nelson chuckled inwardly, his tight-lipped smile meant to soothe the impending storm brewing in Captain Crane just now.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected just this kind of reaction from his friend.  True; Lee was responsible for the well-being of every man aboard Seaview, but there was also something else at play here.  Lee had grown very protective of him over the years, maybe even a little too much, he added internally.  So, he was aware that his friend’s protest was rooted as much from his personal concern as his duty as captain.  It would be immensely irritating if he didn’t know exactly where his young friend was coming from.  Truth be known, he was just as protective of Lee, which is why he gave Johnson an earful just about every time ONI’s head man called Lee into action for covert work.  However, avoiding perilous situations wasn’t a skill either man had mastered, but duty had always won out and the two had always managed to get the job done despite their concern.  This time would be no different, Harry decided.

 

“It makes perfect sense, Lee.  FS1 is large enough to attract the squid’s attention and draw it out into the open where Seaview has a clear shot.”

 

“Admiral, do you know how close you’ll have to get to that squid?  Its reach has got be several hundred feet!  And I seriously doubt the flying sub can outrun it,” he added.

 

“Well, you may be right there, considering a natural squid is capable of swimming 20 knots.  At its present size, its propulsion would correspondingly increase and no doubt, easily outrun Seaview, even at flank speed.  But that’s exactly the reason why we need to be in control of the attack, Lee; and this is the perfect time to act, while the creature is still sluggish from its last feeding.  Once it decides to hunt, I’m afraid that all we’ll be doing is damage control,” Harry argued reasonably.

 

Lee raised a tired hand to rub away the dull ache beneath the bandage square on his brow.

 

“What makes you think the squid will make a move on you if it’s not ready to hunt yet, anyway?”

 

“The Giant Squid mostly dines on shrimp or even other smaller squid, so it’s always on the lookout for its next meal.  It won’t pass up an easy meal, and at its current size that’s exactly how it will see the flying sub,” Harry explained, picking up that Lee was now, at least, considering the plan.  “Now, we sweeten the deal by putting FS1 right in the middle of its ‘favorite’ spot,” Harry added, barely drawing a breath before he continued.  “The water samples reveal that the concentration of mantel elements was, of course, strongest at the fissure.  The last sample we retrieved wasn’t the most distant from the vent, but it was taken after the fissure had been sealed and the parts-per-million reading indicates that it contained the weakest solution of mantel elements.”

 

“That would explain why the squid adjusted its position,” Lee speculated.

 

“Exactly,” the enthused admiral agreed; the pursuit of knowledge a natural stimulant to the scientist.  “It moved in as close as it could before the deterrent frequency discouraged it from moving closer.”

 

“Why would it be drawn to the fissure?” Lee’s question stated merely to understand the problem and not necessarily to play devil’s advocate.

 

Harry sighed and shook his head remorsefully.  “I wish you could have known Dr. Sterling before he’d been exposed to the elements; he was a rational man; his scientific method was flawless,” he lamented.  “The man I talked to aboard the sea lab was nothing like that.”

 

“He went mad,” Lee added as explanation.

 

“There’s no doubt about that, but I think there was something more.  When Miss Sloan visited Santa Barbara to convince me commit Seaview to a visit, I was undeterred.  We were swamped, and I initially denied the request.  But then Dr. Sterling called on the video phone.  He was sane and rational, and it was he that convinced me to make room for the voyage.  He wasn’t the same man that I visited on the lab a week later.  I’m convinced that the madness came on gradually.  Now, this is just speculation,” he qualified, “but I believe there is an addictive quality to the elements’ properties; something that drove him to throw caution to the wind; something that clouded his judgement and drove him to continue, even before he went mad, despite losing two men and endangering the woman who loved him… something beyond the pursuit of scientific discovery,” he added.

 

Lee shook his head; Harry’s pursuit of scientific discovery had, at times, put Seaview in a difficult position, but the admiral had always been reachable through logic.  And the times he’d had to “put his foot down” as captain were simply disagreements regarding the acceptable safety parameters, not because Harry was unreasonable.   “What exactly is your plan?” he relented.

 

“We turn off the deterrent frequency and launch FS1.  The flying sub’s movements toward the fissure will attract the creature and entice it into position…”

 

“I’m not in favor of trying to contain the creature.  It’s grown too big and it’s far too late for that,” Lee interrupted, putting his foot down on the idea of stunning the creature and radio tagging it for study as Harry had suggested earlier.

 

Harry raised a hand to stave off Lee’s protest.  “I agree,” he said, admitting that he had come to the same conclusion.  “We’ll wait for it to commit to the attack by allowing it to grab us with its feeder tentacles to ensure that Seaview gets a clean shot.”

 

“What’s to keep it from crushing the flying sub?”  Lee asked incredulously, as if shocked that he was even considering the crazy plan.  “Admiral, what if it manages to get the flying sub to its beak?”

 

“I’ll rig a nuclear charge through the hull to prevent that, but you’ll have to take your shot then, and Lee,” he paused dramatically, “it’s got to be a good one,” Harry cautioned solemnly.

 

“This is madness, Admiral,” Lee lamented as he threw his hands into the air and paced.

 

“It’s the best option to ensure that we don’t lose the creature before it hunts again,” Harry replied with sober resolve.

 

Lee stopped pacing and hung his head in thought.  Harry was right; if they lost the creature, all they’d end up doing was damage control.  And even then, they would likely end up with the same solution.

 

“All right, Admiral,” he relented almost apologetically, “I’ll call for a volunteer to co-pilot,” he said regretfully and feeling a pang guilt for not taking on the dangerous job himself.  He swallowed back the notion; it was his responsibility to stop the creature from killing again, and they both knew that his place was at Seaview’s helm. 

 

“I’ll take Sharkey… I’m sure he’ll agree,” Harry stated with full confidence regarding the steadfast Chief.

 

A brief moment of silence passed as Lee made one last ditch effort considering whether there were other options.  Thinking of none, he committed fully to the plan and raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. 

 

“When do we do it?”

 

“The sooner the better,” Harry replied, his conviction as strong as his resolve.

 

* * * * *

 

The deck vibrated only slightly when FS1 dropped from her berth as Lee watched the flying sub’s departure, a crucial element in their plan to neutralize the massive squid that had taken so many lives.  As well-thought as the plan was however, the inherent risk to the inhabitants in the flying sub was undeniably high; too high he had privately decided, but he was between a rock and a hard place.  Using FS1 as bait was the best viable option for reeling in a sea creature whose mere size was a threat to any ship in its path, not to mention the insatiable hunger driving it.  Though he didn’t intend on sacrificing Harry and Sharkey to accomplish his task; he was well aware that their lives were in his hands.

 

“We have you on visual, Admiral,” Lee stated into the mic from the chart table.

 

“Very well, deactivate the deterrent frequency,” the Admiral ordered calmly, without a hint of the danger they were inviting upon the small submarine as he guided the flying sub toward the now-closed fissure.

 

“Aye, Sir,” Lee replied in the mic then turned toward his first officer.  “Sound General Quarters, Mr. Morton and deactivate the frequency,” he ordered, completely concealing any internal regret for the course of action they had formulated with much consideration. 

 

“Attention all hands; battle stations,” Chip ordered into the mic and then double-clicked to issue the next order to kill the deterrent frequency.  “Frequency deactivated,” Chip reported.

 

Lee acknowledged with a short nod.  “Sonar?” he inquired in a one-word question over his shoulder.

 

“Nothing yet,” Kowalski answered, reporting on the squid’s position.  “Wait!  It’s on the move, Skipper.”

 

“Admiral, you’ve got its attention,” Lee passed on.

 

“Good...” Harry replied, “Proceeding to the collapsed vent, and Lee… good luck,” he offered sincerely knowing that their success depended entirely upon Seaview’s ability to strike definitively.  His well-wishes, however, weren’t self-serving; indeed, it applied directly to Seaview’s safety.  Seaview had to move in close enough for visual contact in order to obtain the clean shot required.  A wounded animal could prove far more dangerous, and the kill-shot had to be clean.  Unfortunately, that entailed sailing precariously close within the squid’s long reach in order for the windowed submarine’s floodlights to illuminate its target.

 

“Aye Sir, you too,” Lee replied, the sentiment appreciated but tucked deep inside to be considered later, when he wasn’t preoccupied with the task at hand.  “Sonar, report,” he ordered.

 

“Target is eight miles out and closing fast.”

 

“Very well, sing out its progress.  Mr. Morton, take the helm,” he ordered, heading forward to the laser sites and pulling the unit from its stowed position overhead.  He positioned the sites to his height as Chip moved the submarine closer to the collapsed vent.  In the background, Kowalski sounded off the squid’s progress.

 

“Seven-miles and closing at 50 knots, Sir.”

 

Lee stretched the mic, holding it in one hand and positioning the other on the trigger guard.

 

“Seaview, this FS1.  We’re in position,” the Admiral reported.

 

“We read you Admiral.  The squid is closing fast…”

 

“…six-miles and closing,” Ski interjected.

 

“Admiral, did you get that?” Lee asked.  “You can expect a visitor in six minutes,” he added, doing the quick math in his head.

 

“Affirmative, Lee.  We’re ready.”

 

“Engines all-stop,” Chip ordered, bringing Seaview in as close as they dare until the squid arrived.  “We’re in position, Skipper,” he reported.

 

“Very well,” he replied leaning into the sites with both hands on the dual triggers.

 

“…five-miles and closing.”

 

Every successive minute harbored a mixture of tense updates and heightened adrenals, invoking skilled readiness as every crewman in the Control Room prepared to battle a massive mutated squid before it killed again.

 

“…one-mile and closing,” Kowalski reported, his voice penetratingly poignant with the news of the impending creature’s approach.

 

“Less than a minute, Admiral,” Lee informed, leaning into the laser sights and removing the safety on the trigger device.

 

“We have visual contact,” Nelson reported followed by Sharkey’s voice heard over the VOX summing up the creature’s arrival succinctly.

 

“Good lord, Admiral!  Look at the size of that thing!”

 

* * * * *

 

The flying sub’s flood lights pierced through the inky depths at 200 feet below the surface, its illuminance reflecting off an approaching shadowy large mass.  A form emerged from the furthest point of the flood lamp’s reach, revealing an obscure semblance of the long reaching tentacle of the squid; its appendage so large and far removed from its mantel that it appeared to have a life of its own.

 

Sharkey’s shocking observation hadn’t been an overplayed sentiment.  Indeed, the Chief’s eyes were wide in shocked horror as the creature inched closer, hunting its prey with careful resolve.

 

“Ready the hull for a nuclear charge, but wait for my order,” Harry ordered, the last issued with passionate insistence, completely suppressing his own shock and trepidation in order to accomplish the tasks at hand.

 

Sharkey cleared his throat to refocus and allowed his military training to win over the dread in his belly.  “Aye Sir; nuclear charge ready,” he answered resolutely.

 

“Lee, the feeder tentacle is just about to make contact,” Harry informed calmly. 

 

The simple “Aye Sir,” was devoid of emotion as Seaview’s Captain concentrated; Seaview was stationed just out of visual range and wouldn’t move in for the kill until the creature committed to the attack.

 

“Admiral?” Sharkey questioned nervously just as the tip of a large tentacle appeared.

 

“I see it, Chief,” Harry returned undaunted by the spectacle closing in on the yellow sub.  “A little further…” he coaxed the animal, knowing that once the feeder tentacle made contact, there would be little time before they would be drawn close to the squid’s mantel.

 

Slowly and deliberately the tentacle wrapped under the flying sub without making contact, until it enveloped the manta-like sub in its terrifying grasp.  FS1 rocked violently as the squid’s hold tightened, throwing the flying sub’s inhabitants around in their seats, despite being harnessed.

 

“It’ll crush us, Admiral!” Sharkey warned excitedly.

 

“No, not yet; first it will draw us closer to its mouth,” Harry countered coolly, as if he were giving a science lecture and not at all like a man that knew he was damn near going to be lunch for a hungry cephalopod.

 

 Sharkey blew a breath out and shook his head, gaining little comfort from the Admiral’s calm prediction but, all the while, trusting the Admiral completely.

 

“Ready on the charge,” Harry instructed, the view out the window complete obscured by two large suction pads pressed precariously against the small sub.  “Switching to outside cameras,” he stated, reaching to flip the toggle switch himself to ensure Sharkey was focused on the hull charge.

 

The outside camera monitor offered no improvement to their view, revealing only a close-up mass of tentacle.  “Switching to camera two,” Harry announced as the movement of FS1’s unwilling progress toward the voracious squid was felt. 

 

“We’ve got a picture, Admiral!” Sharkey exclaimed.

 

“I see it,” Harry replied as the creature’s cylindrical body came into view, the large black platter-sized eyes focused on its prey; its beak, with bone crushing ability at its normal size, was terrifying even to the brave men inside the flying sub.  The creature drew its prey close enough to dine and opened its beak, revealing its teeth laden tongue-like radula and invoking a terror-filled gasp from his co-pilot.  “Seaview, are you in position?” Harry demanded as much as inquired, his adrenaline fueling the classic fight or flight response, of which his body was vehemently voting for flight; nonetheless he held to the plan.

 

“Thirty seconds more, Admiral!” Lee responded over the radio desperate for more time.

 

“It’s now or never, Lee!” Harry countered, staring down the last seconds of their existence if Seaview failed to fire on time. 

 

The squid’s disturbing tongue lurched greedily toward the helpless yellow sub, invoking the order he could no longer delay.

 

“Now, Sharkey!” he shouted, ordering a nuclear charge through FS1’s hull.

 

Chapter Nine

 

Lee leaned heavily into the laser sights as Chip Morton guided Seaview into the danger zone where the creature’s flailing tentacles could do damage.

 

“A little more…” he instructed, seeking to bring the sub close enough for a visual of the creature.  “Got it!” he shouted spotting the creature with a death hold on the flying sub.

 

“All stop!” Chip ordered in the background, just as Lee saw the electrifying glow of a nuclear charge surround the flying sub like a halo. 

 

Lee took aim and waited for a clear shot.  The squid had stopped the forward motion to its beak, but had failed to relinquish its hold, stubbornly taking the incredible shock rather than release its quarry.

 

“Again, Admiral!” Lee shouted, ordering a second charge through the hull.

 

The flying sub glowed again, this time invoking a jerking reaction as the squid lurched to escape the pain, followed by an immediate release of its prey.

 

“Now, Lee!” Harry yelled from the flying sub.

 

Lee found the opening he needed and pulled the trigger, focusing a sustained laser blast straight into the creature’s mantel.  The flailing arms of the squid thrashed about wildly in pain while silt stirred and clouded the water, providing a veil of protection to aid FS1’s escape.  Immediately it set to searching for the source of its agony.  The flying sub momentarily forgotten, it propelled itself forward, traveling an incredible 60 knots and covering the span of ocean between itself and the Seaview in seconds.

 

“Where is it?” Chip demanded.

 

“I don’t see it!” Kowalski reported from sonar.

 

“Steady men,” Lee cautioned, still leaning into the sights and searching the ocean.

 

“Hydrophones, what do you hear?” Chip inquired.

 

“It’s quiet; it’s like it disappeared,” Patterson reported perplexed.

 

“Where are you?” Lee whispered rhetorically while searching the murky water.  He had a gut feeling the creature hadn’t given up on its meal that easily, and quite aware that in its natural state, the squid had even been known to attack whales.

 

In the background, Lee ignored Sparks’ unanswered hails as the radio operator attempted unsuccessfully to make contact with the flying sub.  He buried any concern for Harry and Sharkey’s well-being and focused keenly on the search for a wounded creature, well-aware that its massive size could crush the hull of Seaview in one swift move.

 

“Contact; dead astern!” Ski reported.

 

“Evasive maneuvers!” Lee ordered over his shoulder, then refocused on his sights hoping to catch a glimpse of sea monster on their six.

 

“Hard left rudder!” Chip ordered almost immediately.

 

The sharp turn provided Lee with a fleeting view of a tentacle before it disappeared into the vastness of the dark ocean.

 

“Where is it, sonar?” Lee shouted, knowing damn-well that a creature of that size should be showing up on sonar’s green monitor like a giant blob at this close range.

 

“I don’t see it,” a frustrated Kowalski admitted before making a sudden realization.  “Unless… it must be hiding in the sea bed below us!”

 

“Where?” Chip demanded.

 

“I won’t be able to tell until it makes a move,” the skilled sonar operator explained, turning dials and fine tuning his equipment.

 

“Stay on it, Kowalski, it has to show itself some time,” Chip ordered while taking long strides to Lee’s side.

 

“Not necessarily,” Lee differed quietly, continuing to search for any sign of the squid through the sights.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“With its long reach, all it has to do is hide in a valley and move its feeder tentacle slowly until it has us,” he surmised flatly.

 

The thought would have filled both men with overwhelming dread had they not been so thoroughly trained and experienced in dealing with danger.

 

“What do you propose we do?” Chip asked, knowing full-well that Seaview’s Captain always had a contingency plan and never gave up when it came to protecting his boat and crew.

 

“Engage active sonar, let’s see how it reacts to our pings,” he ordered, leaving the driving to his first officer in order to man the laser, but still very much in command of his boat.

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Chip replied in full agreement with Captain Crane’s plan to force the creature to reveal its position by startling it, much the same way the eel had been stirred from its concealment earlier.

 

Lee continued to scan the sea, his attention focused but still aware of his surroundings as Kowalski switched from passive to active sonar, resulting in repetitive metallic pings echoing throughout the control room, as well as Chip’s orders issued and acknowledged in the background.  He used all of his self-control and training to stay on task, readying to deliver a clean kill shot once the squid revealed itself; the importance of his task effectively demonstrated by the sound of Seaview’s Communication Officer’s unanswered hails in the background.

 

“Seaview to Flying Sub; come in FS1…”

 

* * * * *

 

A pungent odor of ozone and burnt wire hung in the smoky air above Admiral Nelson’s and Chief Sharkey’s heads.  The red glow of emergency lights flashed ominously, as if to somehow arouse the unconscious men and alert them of the dangers of the wounded creature they had barely escaped.  Their plan had worked, using the flying sub as bait they had lured the squid close enough in order to set up Seaview’s attack.  The yellow sub had been ensconced in the terrifying grip of a feeder tentacle and was well on its way to the monster’s beak where it would surely crush FS1’s hull like an eggshell.  A nuclear charge to the hull had finally convinced the overgrown calamari to release its meal, though it had taken a second round to do so.  The flying sub was released in the creature’s reflexive movement of pain avoidance, providing Nelson the opportunity to apply power and bolt to safety.  In that same moment, Seaview had fired her powerful laser, invoking innate evasive maneuvers from the squid.  It was as large as a sea mount, but moved faster than any submarine in the world, including Seaview.  With incredible agility, it escaped the powerful laser and abandoned its meal in favor of attacking the source of its agony and the bigger meal opportunity.  The most primal of instincts was invoked in the sea monster; the instinct to hunt and kill on a level it had not enjoyed since abnormally growing far past its natural size.  It drew its long appendages inward and then lunged forward, propelling itself toward the object of its primal rage with wicked speed and agility.  But in doing so, one of its long tentacles inadvertently made contact with the fleeing yellow sub as it lunged toward Seaview, sending FS1 in a head over heels tumble in the tumultuous waves of the churned up sea.

 

Her occupants were knocked about wildly as the deep ocean thrashed the flying sub in the creature’s wakes.  Her reluctant journey took her far from the ensuring battle between the titan squid and the windowed submarine, until she finally settled to the sea bed in a hard, uncontrolled landing.  Battered and without power, she lay on the ocean floor keeping her two charges alive with emergency power, but even that would soon come to an end if Nelson and Sharkey didn’t wake soon.

 

* * * * *

 

Metallic pings sounded throughout the quiet Control Room of the SSRN Seaview; each crewman attentive to their duty; each man keenly aware of the dangerous sea monster that was possibly hiding in a valley or crevice of the ocean floor. 

 

“Nothing, Sir,” Kowalski reported.  “It’s like it disappeared,” he lamented, puzzled that he hadn’t seen the giant creature’s escape.

 

“It’s there,” Lee reassured, knowing full-well that Seaview’s sophisticated sonar would have been able to track a creature of that size for almost a half-hour before it traveled out of range, even at 50 knots, “it just doesn’t seem to be bothered by the pulse.”  He had assumed that the creature would be uncomfortable with active sonar; it wasn’t a far stretch since it was now believed that active sonar interacted with whales’ and dolphins’ echolocation, confusing their feeding and mating habits.  Unfortunately, they had failed to stir up the squid since utilizing active sonar a little over ten minutes ago.  Lee bit his lip in thought before deciding on his next course of action.  “Mr. Morton, establish a search pattern and engage echo sounding.”

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” he replied and then leaned in for a private word.  “We could be in for a long search,” he commented, not disagreeing with the captain, but simply stating the facts.  Lee’s plan entailed utilizing the same technology used to determine depth to bottom readings and then comparing the data to the current sea maps.  In short, they were looking for an uncharted mount or perhaps a missing valley. 

 

“I’m aware of that, but it had to have gone somewhere, and my gut tells me it’s down there,” he stated confidently.

 

“Licking its wounds?” Chip surmised. 

 

“Perhaps… more likely just waiting for the best opportunity to attack.”

 

It was an ominous thought, but hardly pessimistic.  Chip had learned a long time ago not to dismiss Lee’s gut feelings.  The crew even believed that Seaview’s Captain had a sixth sense regarding danger and it was uncanny how many times his hunches were dead-on. 

 

“What about FS1?” Chip reminded; they had yet to reestablish radio contact and worse yet, the emergency locator wasn’t transmitting.

 

“The search pattern is just as likely to turn up the flying sub as the creature,” he answered dispassionately, working hard to detach in order to stay focused.  He couldn’t indulge in extraneous emotions right now; not when a man-eating squid was lurking somewhere waiting to strike.

 

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Chip answered dutifully, but aware that Lee had placed the highest priority on finding the squid.  If they happened upon FS1, all the better, but the search parameters were designed to find a massive sea monster hiding somewhere below them.

 

Lee sighed, sensing Chip’s reticence and out respect for his long-time friend, offered an explanation that he didn’t owe the junior officer.  “I know its labor intensive, but we ignited something primal in the creature.  As far as it understands, we drew the first blood, it’s not going to nurse its wounds; it will attack.  If not us, then some unsuspecting surface boat with no means of protection.  We have to find it,” he finished passionately, answering the unasked question of just which was the highest priority; finding the giant squid or the flying sub. 

 

Chip nodded, silently acknowledging the fact that there wasn’t a man aboard as close to Harriman Nelson as Lee Crane, and consequently, no one felt the burden heavier than Seaview’s Captain.  “It’s a good plan, Lee,” he encouraged, “we’ll find it,” he finished reassuredly and then turned to see to his orders.

 

* * * * *

 

Harriman Nelson coughed, reflexively attempting to clear the fouled air from his lungs, his eyes stinging as he blinked himself awake.

 

“Chief,” he said in between coughs.  “Chief,” he repeated, reaching over to check on his shipmate.

 

Sharkey stirred, coughing and shaking his head to clear the fogginess of his brain.  “We’re not dead?” he asked once he opened his eyes and assessed their situation.

 

“Not yet,” Harry deadpanned, the two’s banter consistent with their unlikely friendship despite their difference in rank.  “But we will be soon if we don’t get power back on and scrub this air.”

 

“Aye Sir,” Sharkey acknowledged, shaking the last of the fuzziness from his brain and working his end of the console to power back up.

 

Harry flipped the main power toggle switch from the on/off position several times, “Nothing, he announced,” before turning his chair and unstrapping the safety harness.  He headed to the main circuitry board and opened it, making a quick assessment.  “Here’s our problem.  Hand me the repair kit,” he ordered over his shoulder.

 

Sharkey retrieved a black bag of tools from the aft storage locker and handed them to the Admiral.  “Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so, just a burnt out connection.  As long as it didn’t cause a short elsewhere, we’ll be in business,” Harry replied, easily dividing his attention between the repair and the conversation.

 

“It’s dark out there,” Sharkey noted with a cough.  “We must have been thrown pretty far from Seaview.”

 

“Uh-humm,” Harry replied, having already made that assessment.

 

“Do you think she’s okay?” the Chief asked tentatively.  “I mean, you’d think she would have mounted a rescue operation by now.”

 

“We’ll know soon enough,” Harry answered evenly as he soldered the damaged connection.  Though the same thought had crossed his mind, years of experience had taught him to deal with fact, not conjecture.  “Okay, this should be good.  Turn on main power,” he instructed and then waited with the panel opened to watch the result.

 

Sharkey sat in the co-pilot’s chair and leaned toward switch.  “Here goes nothing,” he said unceremoniously and flipped the switch on, then grinned like a Cheshire cat when the flying sub responded by booting up exactly as she should.  “Hey, hey, hey!” he sang out to Harry’s tight-lipped grin.

 

“We’re not out of this yet,” the Admiral cautioned, closing the panel and heading back to the pilot seat.  “First things first; how’s air revitalization?”

 

Sharkey checked the gauge to his far right, watching it for a few seconds before answering.  “It’s starting to scrub the air,” he reported, which was good news considering the persistent cough the two men endured from time to time.

 

“Fine, initiate cold start up procedures,” Harry ordered, reaching for the throat mic as Sharkey acknowledged and then began working through the check list.  “FS1 to Seaview,” the admiral called and waited for only a second before hailing again.  “FS1 to Seaview; come in, Seaview.”  Their hail was met by silence; Harry flipped the switch again and adjusted the gain to no avail.  “Everything looks good here,” he said after a quick troubleshooting routine, “I’d say the trouble is with our antenna.”

 

“We must have lost it when that thing was squeezing us,” Sharkey assumed.

 

“Obviously,” Harry replied, his mind already working on a possible solution to another of their problems.  “Chief, check the ELT,” he ordered to test the hypothesis he had already formed.

 

“Aye Sir,” he answered, testing the emergency locator transmitter with several flips of the switch.  “Nothing,” he announced.

 

“Well, that explains why Seaview hasn’t found us yet,” the Admiral answered without emotion.

 

“Aye Sir,” Sharkey replied, deciding not to add the other explanation, that Seaview herself was damaged or worse yet, destroyed in the attack.

 

“Systems report,” Harry inquired.

 

“Sonar is still booting,” he reported before smiling widely when the green screen popped back on.  “Hey, hey!” he noticed before clearing his throat to curb his excitement and returning to proper etiquette.  “All systems operational, Sir.”

 

Harry nodded, already studying the green contact on the sonar screen.  “There’s Seaview,” he pointed out.

 

“Looks like a standard search pattern,” Sharkey noted after watching it briefly.  “Hey! That squid is gone.  Do you suppose Seaview took care of it?” he asked enthusiastically.

 

“Possibly,” Harry answered noncommittally, “Let’s just see if we can get underway; the sooner we dock, the sooner we’ll know for sure,” he added in what was actually an unvoiced order to continue the startup sequence.

 

Sharkey cleared his throat.  “Aye Sir, all systems go,” he reported.

 

“Very well,” he replied, adding power and grinning with satisfaction as the flying sub lifted from the silty sea bed and moved forward.

 

“What do you know!” Sharkey proclaimed proudly at FS1’s ability to take abuse from a giant mutant squid and still glide like a graceful lady.

 

Harry chuckled, although much more reserve in his emotions, he heartily agreed with his enthusiasm.

 

The tone took a decidedly different turn, however, when Sharkey’s brow tightened and his eyes widened.

 

“Admiral! What… what’s that?” he exclaimed, pointing to the large green mass that abruptly appeared out of nowhere on the sonar screen.

 

* * * * *

 

“I’ve got something, Skipper!” Pat called from hydrophones.

 

Lee headed over, standing between sonar and hydrophones.  “What do you have?”

 

“I’m not sure, sort of like a gurgling sound,” he answered while handing the spare headphones to Seaview’s Captain who arguably had the best “ears” on the boat. 

 

Lee donned the headset and listened, then leaned toward sonar.  The screen was clear but the sound was too distinctive to ignore.  “Almost like a school of fish on the move,” he assessed, holding one of the headphones to his ear, “but not quite,” he considered to Pat’s agreeing nod.

 

“Flash contact,” Ski reported from his left.

 

“Position?” he inquired, examining the sonar screen which was now clear of any contacts.

 

“Close Sir, 15 degrees off our starboard side, I’d say about a hundred yards, but it’s gone now.”

 

“What do you make of it?” Chip asked quietly. 

 

“I don’t know for sure.  Sonar should be tracking something that big,” he answered, almost thinking out loud, handing the headset back to Patterson.  “Unless…” he stopped to ponder.  “All stop,” he ordered over his shoulder. 

 

“Contact,” Kowalski interjected and then shook his head in frustration.  “It was there a second ago,” he said, lamenting that the screen was now clear again.

 

Lee placed an affirming had on Ski’s shoulder and squeezed.  “I saw it too,” he confirmed. 

 

“I got that same reading as well,” Pat added, holding the earphone tighter against his ear to hear.

 

Lee nodded, his next course of action decided.  “Mr. Morton, bring us about, heading zero-one-zero and load torpedoes one and four.”

 

“Zero-one-zero, aye,” the XO repeated as Lee headed for the laser unit once again with Chip ordering a hard right rudder behind him.  He leaned into the sights and searched the dark sea before turning back to the Control Room.  “Stay sharp, men.  Unless I miss my guess, we’re about ready to scare up a giant squid.”

 

Chip’s brow tightened in an unvoiced question, which Lee answered for the sake of the entire Control Room.

 

“The flash contact is on an intercept course; unless I’m wrong, the squid is hiding in a valley and the movement is a tentacle,” he explained, leaving the men with a very vivid image of the oversized feeding tentacle of a massive mutant squid slithering along the ocean floor, hunting and readying to strike.

 

With that, he turned back to the laser and squeezed the trigger, issuing three quick blasts and spreading his fire randomly in the general direction of the flash sonar contact.  Almost immediately, Lee’s hunch was proven true when a huge green blob suddenly filled the sonar screen as the giant squid rose ominously from the sea bed.

 

Chapter Ten

 

“Contact; bearing zero-one-five relative,” Kowalski reported.  “It’s huge!” the seaman muttered to himself, his professionalism wavering only a moment as he tightened his resolve.

 

“Get me a clear shot, Mr. Morton,” Lee ordered deciding not to use torpedoes at this close range and aiming for the coordinates Ski had called out while Chip immediately initiated a turn for a head on engagement.  The turn was complete, but he estimated that the squid’s giant mantel would be hard to miss at this range.  He fired several blasts and then scrutinized the darkness for its result, catching a shadowy glimpse of the squid closing in and coming into view of his sights.

 

“Second contact…” Ski started to report when Seaview suddenly experienced a hard jolt that sent its crew crashing against the other side of the control room before over-correcting back to the other side in a series of extreme rock and rolls.

 

Lee found himself knocked hard against the bulkhead and then thrown to the deck.  He managed to get to his feet and maintain a handhold at the portside bulkhead, riding out the incredible force slamming the crew from one side to the next.  Steam burst through several overhead pipes and sparks flew from the NAV computer as Lee made a concerted effort to reach the laser sights.  He grabbed hold of the frame from the laser’s stow rack with one hand and attempted to aim with only one hand free to steady his aim.  Planting his feet, he issued a direct hit, resulting in a powerful shake as the squid reacted reflexively to the sudden pain.

 

“Pressure building on the outer hull!” Chip yelled over the sounds of the boat under attack just as another pipe spewed out steam.  “Kill that steam!” he ordered while reaching for a button and depressing without satisfaction.  “Crash doors inoperative,” he yelled, informing Seaview’s Captain, who had no time to respond at present.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee fired again, but the sudden reaction from the squid was devastating, knocking him from his feet.  Sparks shot out from another console as crewmen not firmly planted at their stations scrambled to their feet.

 

“Fire detail, get on that!” the Exec ordered helping Lee to his feet.  “The next one will tear us apart,” he advised his commanding officer before catching the horrifying sight of a flailing tentacle outside Seaview’s window, the base of the tentacle so large that it obstructed the entire view as it made its way toward them.

 

Lee didn’t have time to respond, he planted his feet ignoring the wet crimson blood sliding down his temple when the cut above his eye reopened.  He aimed at a target that was now impossible to miss before the outside sights suddenly went dark, covered by a tentacle as the creature wrapped another deadly appendage around Seaview’s hull.  Firing blindly, Lee pulled the trigger in a sustaining blow that he hoped would either kill the squid or at least send the creature into retreat.  The sudden rock and roll dispelled both of those scenarios when Seaview suffered the worse abuse yet, resulting in a subsequent loss of power and sending her crew crashing to the deck.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee blinked to clear his vision, then crawled back toward the laser.  The deck was currently listing 15 degrees and emergency power had kicked in, bathing the Control Room in its red glow.  Outside Seaview’s windows, large suctions ominously obstructed the view.  To make matters worse, he suspected the forward torpedo tubes were obstructed, making that option unusable. 

 

He found his footing and fired the lasers, but frowned when he realized there was no response.

 

“Divert all power to the laser!” he yelled over his shoulder when a sudden jolt hit once again, this time however, it was accompanied by a reflexive loosening of the squid’s hold as Seaview’s windows suddenly cleared.  “What happened?” he asked, not intending to look a gift horse in the mouth, but needing answers just the same.

 

“It’s the flying sub!” Kowalski yelled to a brief cheer of relief from crewmen who, though valiant in their efforts, had begun to lose hope.

 

Lee didn’t have time to celebrate however, finding his footing once again to make his way back to the laser.  “I need that power, Chip!”

 

His urgent order refocused the entire Control Room at the realization that the battle wasn’t over and the flying sub was now, most likely, the object of the creature’s scorn.

 

* * * * *

 

“Direct hit!” Sharkey shouted victoriously; the Admiral’s aim had been dead-on, hitting the squid right in the middle of one of its massive eyes.  The result had been an instant release of its death grip Seaview.

 

Harry heard but ignored the Chief’s celebratory remark, far too busy to acknowledge, while busy conducting evasive maneuvers in order to stay clear of the long reach of tentacles thrashing about in pain and looking for something to attack.  FS1 barely escaped one such appendage and settled into relatively safe waters for the time being.

 

“FS1 to Seaview, come in,” he hailed, but waited only briefly for an answer before calling again.  “If you can hear me, focus all firepower between the eyes,” he instructed and then repeated, calculating that even though the flying sub’s radio antenna had been damaged, that at this close range Seaview’s powerful radio might just be able to hear their transmission.

 

“It’s going to put the squeeze on Seaview again!” Sharkey pointed out, having a ringside seat to the unbelievable view.

 

“Seaview, if you can hear me; focus all firepower between the eyes,” Harry repeated urgently.  Only a scratchy reply filled the cockpit as Nelson assessed their chances of successfully destroying the squid without Seaview’s laser.  The squid was already wounded, bearing the battle scars of several direct hits from the larger submarine but they had yet to subdue the creature.  Targeting its brain was the best way to impair the cephalopod, he calculated, but based upon the creature’s resilience thus far, it would take sustained blasts from both Seaview and FS1 to do it.  “Repeat; focus all firepower between the eyes!”

 

“Admiral!” Sharkey yelled, when the squid managed to wrap an appendage around Seaview once again, and began shaking it violently. 

 

Harry could wait no longer.  He had no idea if the flying sub’s firepower would be adequate, but he was left with no other option. 

 

“Hang on, Chief, this might get rough,” he warned his co-pilot before firing FS1’s onboard lasers, targeting the beast squarely between the eyes.

 

* * * * *

 

“I need that power, Chip!” he yelled over his shoulder, ordering the Exec to redirect emergency power from everything, including air revitalization, to the lasers.  The Admiral had bought them a short reprieve, but unless they became battle ready soon, the squid would crush Seaview and then turn on FS1.

 

He scanned the dark sea, the creature’s violent thrashing in pain had subsided but it had stirred up a silty cloud.  Focusing through the obscurity he found his target and waited for the power to be re-routed to the laser.

 

“Captain!” Sparks voice was heard over the com, “a message from FS1,” he informed running the scratchy message over the intercom. 

 

Lee pulled back from the sights to try and decipher the scratchy message, catching only a few words on the second hail from the flying sub; “Focus…ll…po…wer….”  The rest of the message was inaudible, he started to lean back into the lasers but the sight out the windows stopped him cold when he spotted the large paddle of the feeding tentacle coming straight for them once again.  There was no time for evasive action, and he feared that Seaview wouldn’t survive another attack if the wounded squid got hold of her again. 

 

“Ready the hull for a nuclear charge!” he ordered over his shoulder.

 

The order had barely been repeated and acknowledged when the tentacle found its target grasping the sub and sending everyone to the deck.

 

* * * * *

 

Lee battled his way to a hanging mic swinging with the inertia of the violent shake as the red emergency lights flickered.

 

“Engineering!  Fire the nuclear charge through the hull, NOW!”

 

A few seconds passed before a glow was seen through the window.  The violent shaking stopped, but though the squid was apparently stunned it managed to keep its tight hold on the large submarine.

 

“Again!” he ordered, finding his footing and heading toward the laser.

 

“FS1 is engaging the squid,” Patterson reported, having found his way back to his seat and recognizing the distinct sound of a laser firing underwater.  “Direct hit!”

 

A sudden tightening of the tentacle’s hold reflected the Admiral’s laser fire, but Seaview’s second charge through the hull did the trick and the tentacle retreated.

 

“It’s after the flying sub!” Ski reported.

 

Lee made it back to the laser, just in time to see the laser from the flying sub suddenly cease.  He pulled the trigger, but the nuclear charge had drained the resources he needed for the laser. 

 

“It’s got the flying sub!” he heard from the control room.  They were running out of time.  It would take a few minutes for the laser to charge so he used his last option.

 

“Ready torpedoes!” he ordered.

 

“The concussion will destroy the flying sub,” Chip warned, fulfilling his duty as first officer and giving his captain all the facts.

 

“It’s the only chance they’ve got,” he answered before ordering, “Fire one!  Fire four!”

 

His order was immediately obeyed and followed by a slight shudder under the deck.

 

“Torpedoes loose,” Kowalski reported.

 

“Target acquired,” Patterson chimed in.  “Impact, ten seconds.”

 

“Rig for shock wave,” Lee ordered and planted his feet, watching through the laser sights as two Mark 16 torpedoes whizzed through the water and found their target.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Lee gathered his knees under him and pushed up into a sitting position, squinting to focus into a dark Control Room, absent of even the red emergency lights; the odd angle of the deck confirming that the large submarine was on the bottom.  He made his way to his feet, feeling along until he reached the chart table and found the mic hanging from its station.

 

“Engineering, I need power ASAP,” he ordered.

 

“Emergency power in approximately two minutes, Sir,” Lt. O’Brien replied.

 

“Very well,” Lee replied, hearing the occasional cough and moan from various corners of the Control Room.  “Listen up, men.  Power will be restored soon.  Sound off if you’re able.”

 

“Kowalski… Rodriguez… Phillips… Patterson…” the roll-call continued as Lee rummaged under the chart table for a flashlight.  The roll-call completed with one crewman in particular blatantly missing.  Finding the flashlight, he turned it on training the light on the deck and helping crewman to their stations as he made his way across the control room.  His light landed on the khaki uniform of his first officer as Lee dropped to a knee beside him.

 

“Chip,” he called just as emergency power was restored.  A red light bathed the XO’s face; his eyes were open, though squinting in pain, a protective hand held over his left side with blood oozing between his splayed fingers. 

 

“Busted… a… rib on the island,” he said in between shallow breaths.

 

“Don’t move,” Lee ordered, “compound fracture,” explaining both the injury and his need to lie still.  “Kowalski,” he called to the sonar operator who was also a trained combat medic.

 

Kowalski knelt beside the downed officer.  “I’ve got him, Sir,” he reassured. 

 

“Did you verify the hit before we went down?” Lee asked as the sonar operator administered first aid.

 

“Aye Sir; a direct hit.  It’s in a million pieces on the ocean floor.”

 

“I can verify that, Skipper,” Pat added from behind, reporting as the hydrophone operator.

 

“What about the flying sub?” Seaview’s Captain inquired.

 

“I don’t know, Sir.  I didn’t see before getting knocked off my chair,” Ski replied with an apologetic shrug.

 

Lee had a lot of pots in the fire and had to see to his duty; he squeezed Chip’s arm then stood, leaving his best friend in the hands of the able crewman and headed for the mic.

 

“Damage Control, report.”

 

“Flooding between frames 35 and 37, Sir.  We’re shoring up now.” 

 

“Very well, keep me apprised of your progress.”

 

“Lower compartment flooding.  All personnel accounted for.”

 

“Very well, seal the hatch,” Lee ordered.

 

“Reactor offline, Sir.  We’re initiating a cold start; estimate power in 30 minutes.”

 

“Very well,” he replied, knowing there was no way around the time required to conduct a cold start on the nuclear reactor.

 

Several more reports came in, all detailing a battle-scarred vessel which the trained crew was handling in stride.  Regardless, he wouldn’t let his guard down, not until power was restored and he raised Seaview from the bottom; only then could he launch a rescue operation for the flying sub.

 

* * * * *

 

“Man, oh man,” Sharkey said, rubbing the back of his head.  “That was some ride.  I sure thought we were gonners!”

 

“We would have been if Seaview hadn’t of gotten those torpedoes off before going down,” Harry replied, flipping switches and watching satisfactorily as the flying sub responded. 

 

“Would you look at that,” Sharkey interjected incredulously, staring at the severed tentacle strewn across the seabed out FS1’s window.  A sudden flinch of the appendage caused him to jump back deep into his seat.

 

“Relax, Chief.  Just reflexive movement from the nervous system,” Harry explained calmly.

 

“Are you sure, Sir?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Harry responded in a chuckle, his light mood fueled by surviving their near death experience, having targeted the squid’s brain and temporarily diverting its attention from Seaview.  After releasing the larger submarine, however, it focused its attack on the source of it pain, wrapping its second feeder tentacle around the flying sub and pulling it toward its massive, powerful beak.  Thankfully, a direct hit from Seaview’s torpedoes destroyed the creature before they became squid food, severing the tentacle when the shockwave tore the limb from its disintegrating body.  The entire experience released a rather euphoric feeling in both men upon the realization that they were still in one piece; a feeling that was only tempered by the fact that they didn’t know Seaview’s fate yet.

 

“Anything you say, Sir,” Sharkey replied, having full faith in the Admiral but keeping an appraising eye on the flinching appendage… just in case.

 

“She’s fully operational.  Let’s get back to Seaview,” Harry said, raising the yellow manta-like sub from the bottom and banking a turn as he added power.  Like Sharkey, he was concerned about Seaview, though neither one voiced it out loud.  He had briefly witnessed the boat’s uncontrolled descent to the bottom, though he didn’t know if it had been the result of the creature’s frantic thrashing or the subsequent shock wave from the torpedoes hitting their target at close range.  At any rate, he didn’t intend to let unfounded fear rule over him.  Seaview was a good vessel, and she had a good captain; if anyone could ensure the safety of the world’s most technologically advanced submarine, it was Lee Crane.

 

* * * * *

 

“Contact, two degrees off the starboard bow,” Kowalski reported, having returned to his station after the corpsman arrived.

 

“Biologic?” Lee inquired, making his way over to see for himself.

 

“Negative; I’m not reading a transponder, but it sure profiles like the flying sub,” he added with a grin.

 

Lee studied it himself, then reached for the spare hydrophones and listened, smiling when he had confirmed for himself.  “It’s the flying sub all right.” 

 

“Captain Crane to the radio shack.”

 

Lee turned and headed for Sparks’ domain.  Upon arrival, he was handed a headset as the Communication Officer spoke.

 

“It’s FS1,” he explained, “I’ve got weak reception, but I think I can boost the transceiver for you,” he added, making adjustments and fine tuning.

 

“Admiral, this is Seaview.  Do you copy?”

 

A scratchy and barely audible reply greeted him. 

 

“Lee, I see you’re still on the bottom.  What’s your situation?”

 

“Nice to hear your voice, Admiral.  DC has us tight and dry again.  We’re in the middle of a cold start on the Reactor, we estimate another twenty minutes.  We should be off the bottom soon and ready to receive you.”

 

“Good…” he heard with rather scratchy reception.  “That should give us enough time to…”

 

Lee frowned when the rest of the transmission was lost.

 

“Try again, Sir,” Sparks said, making another adjustment.

 

“Admiral, say again.  Give you enough time for what?”

 

This time a crackle joined the scratchy message, but the reception was garbled and completely inaudible.

 

“Keep at it, Sparks,” he instructed and headed back to sonar, noting the flying sub’s trajectory as it moved away from Seaview.  It only took a moment for him to realize what Harry was up to.  “Monitor FS1’s progress,” he told Kowalski.  “Their radio was damaged; sing out if anything looks off.”

 

“What’s going on?” Chip inquired from the deck; with the compound fracture so close to his lung, the corpsman had suggested not moving him until power was restored in order to prevent further injury moving about in a darkened submarine.

 

Lee knelt beside his first officer, grateful to see him awake.  “Unless I miss my guess, he’s going after the evidence.”

 

“Evidence?” Chip inquired, furrowing his brow in question.

 

“The twelfth sensor,” he replied, understanding that though the first officer had been fully briefed on the matter, the pain medication that the corpsman injected had apparently left Chip a bit fuzzy on the details.

 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, his eyes fluttering closed and sounding more like a little boy falling asleep during a bedtime story than anything right now.  “I forgot about that…”

 

Lee dipped his head, indulging in a small grin that faded quickly.  He stood, leaving his friend in the corpsman’s care and headed to the chart table, contemplating the Admiral’s decision.  Like his first officer, the twelfth sensor had been the last thing on his mind, far behind getting his sub off the bottom and getting a clearer picture of both his crew and boat’s condition.  Leave it to Harry to be thinking of the next step in their mission; determining who was responsible for opening the fissure and just what they hoped to gain from it.

 

* * * * *

 

“Begging the Admiral’s pardon, Sir,” Sharkey started rather sheepishly, using a formality their relationship didn’t usually require but deciding it was necessary this time around.  “But just how is this sensor going to tell us who opened the fissure anyway?”

 

“It won’t likely tell us who opened the fissure, but if the components have been tampered with, it will prove an outside source was involved,” Harry answered matter-of-factly. 

 

“But how is proving that someone fiddled with the sensor outputs going to help us nab them?”

 

Harry took in Sharkey’s confusion in a side-glance laced with a tight-lipped grin.  “Whoever opened the fissure went to a lot of trouble to intercept the sensor readings for a reason.  While, it’s very likely that the primary reason was to hide the quakes from NIMR to prevent us from investigating, it’s also likely they were monitoring the tremors for their own purposes.”

 

“Ah,” Sharkey said in understanding then frowned when he realized that he was still as confused as ever.  “Their own purposes, Sir?”

 

Harry scanned the flight controls, easily dividing piloting the flying sub with the conversation.  “The fissure was opened for a purpose; one the perpetrators didn’t want known.  If they wanted their actions kept a secret, it follows that they needed the fissure opened for more than a single action of collecting samples.”

 

“You mean they wanted to be able to come back and get more samples whenever they wanted,” Sharkey said, snapping his fingers when the light bulb finally went off in his head.

 

“Precisely, otherwise they would have opened the fissure, got what they came for, and then high-tailed it out of here without looking back,” Harry added, having already privately studied the situation to make this deduction. 

 

Sharkey nodded, smiling widely when he finally understood.  His smile began to fade however, when he suddenly realized something.  “But Admiral, once we retrieve the sensor and it stops transmitting data… won’t they know something’s wrong?”

 

“That’s a very real possibility,” Harry replied, pursing his lips shrewdly, an indication that he had already considered the fact and was working on a solution.

 

Sharkey cleared his throat, moving on when the Admiral didn’t elaborate further.  “Sensor dead ahead, Sir.”

 

* * * * *

 

Lee stood at the deck hatch waiting for the “all clear” as water pumped from the flying sub’s berth.  There was a much needed sense of normalcy in the Control Room as full power had been restored and the great submarine had been raised from the sea bed.  Chip was currently being treated in sickbay, along with the other injured crewmen, and DC had reported that repairs were sufficient to get underway.  Though their mission to destroy the sea monster had been successful, Seaview hadn’t escaped unscathed; she was seaworthy but needed to surface to effect repairs properly.  With the flying sub’s radio still inoperable, he had yet to speak to Harry, and was more than pleased when FS1 returned and berthed without incident.

 

“All green, Skipper,” Kowalski reported from his station.

 

“Very well, crack the hatch, Ron.”

 

The brawny red-clad seaman turned the wheel and raised the heavy deck hatch, revealing the auburn hair of Admiral Nelson climbing up the ladder.  Lee almost sighed out loud when Harry and Sharkey climbed out, apparently no worse for the wear for their part in battling the mutant squid.

 

“Welcome back, Admiral,” he said with an unashamed grin.

 

“Thank you, Lee, it’s good to be back,” Harry replied, handing the sensor off to Sharkey.  “Chief, take this to my lab and stow it securely.  I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

“The twelfth sensor?” Lee stated more than asked at the device Sharkey carried.  “You know, Admiral, going off without a radio wasn’t the best idea, Sir,” he admonished lightly, adding a small smile to say that though he didn’t approve, he did understand.

 

“It was a necessity,” Harry said simply, scanning the Control Room.  “What’s the damage?” he asked, moving on to more important matters.

 

“She’s seaworthy, but I need to take her topside for repairs,” Lee answered, willing to let the whole thing drop with what was said.

 

“Sonar and underwater detection?” Harry probed, obviously going somewhere with his inquiry.

 

“Seaview’s completely operational, Admiral, but we’ve got some band aids in place that can’t be dealt with at depth.” 

 

“I want to talk to you about that… but not here.  Meet me in the lab and I’ll explain everything.”

 

Lee wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but would rather discuss their options in private.  “Aye Sir, I’ll be there shortly.”

 

“Very well, and Lee,” he said pausing, “well done,” he added, proud of both Seaview and her Captain for destroying the sea monster.

 

“Thank you, Sir,” he replied graciously as Admiral Nelson headed to his laboratory.

 

Lee watched for only a moment before returning to the Chart Table.

 

“You have the Conn, Mr. O’Brien, prepare to surface but wait for my order.”

 

“Aye, Skipper.”

 

“And get a detail on the flying sub.  I want her checked out from stem to stern.”

 

“I already assigned a detail, Sir,” Bobby assured, taking his duty as acting Exec very seriously, and intending on taking whatever pressure he could off Seaview’s Captain.

 

“Very well,” he answered with an approving nod for the young officer stepping up to the plate with the XO flat on his back.  “I’ll be in the lab if you need me.”

 

* * * * *

 

Lee entered the lab finding Harry hunched over the sensor.  He had apparently already dismissed Sharkey and they were alone.

 

“Admiral?”

 

“Oh Lee, come in.”

 

“Have you found anything?” Lee inquired, pulling a stool over and sitting down wearily.  It was the first time he’d been off his feet in hours and he didn’t realize how tired he was until just now.

 

“Exactly what we were looking for,” Harry confirmed, using a pen to point to a small device within the sensor’s electronics.  “This is the unit intercepting the information and redistributing the false data.  See how it leads to two outputs?” he explained.  “This one feeds information to NIMR, this one…” he pointed to the wire, “feeds real output to someone else,” he said, raising a brow at the mystery of just who that “someone” was and just as important, what they hoped to gain.  “And now that the device has been removed, they’ll have to send a sub to investigate,” he added.

 

Lee stood and started pacing.  “Seaview is in no condition for another battle.  We took significant casualties, Jamie treated and released over a dozen crewmen, but he’s got four in sickbay with more serious injuries, including Chip.  I need to take her topside, Admiral,” he argued passionately.

 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.  “I just assumed Chip was tending other duties,” he admitted regarding the Exec’s absence from the Control Room, “how is he?”

 

Lee stopped pacing and faced the Admiral.  “He’ll be okay.  He busted a rib, a compound fracture that was pressing against his lung.  He’s out of commission for a few days at least; more, if Jamie has his way.”

 

“Lee, we have to move on this.  Whoever opened that fissure went to a lot of trouble to keep their tracks covered.  It was a well-planned, well-funded effort,” Harry argued.

 

“I can’t put Seaview in another battle in her current condition,” he said, standing firm on his conviction. 

 

“I’m not suggesting that,” Harry countered with a raised hand in the air.  “I’m suggesting a different approach… a more proactive one.”

 

Lee squinted, following the Admiral’s line of thinking completely, but not yet convinced.  “We don’t even know where to begin looking!” he argued.

 

“I think we do,” Harry differed.  “This lead was hard wired to the cable,” he said, returning to the sensor, “which means that if they are, indeed, intercepting data and not just tampering with it, then all we have to do is follow the cable…”

 

“…back to the relay station,” Lee finished, referring to the island where the cable ended and where the feed was picked up by satellite and transmitted to NIMR.  “Suppose you’re right,” he said after a moment of reflection.  “But Seaview is still in no shape to intercept a submarine.”

 

“We can use that,” Harry countered.  “We take Seaview topside to affect repairs while announcing to the world that the squid has been destroyed and we make no mention of the discrepancy in the tremor readings.  There’s a very good chance that whoever is behind this will assume that the twelfth sensor was damaged during the battle.  With Seaview verifiably on the surface, they may very well feel their position is still safe and give us the time we need to investigate.”

 

“You’re talking about taking a small team to the island with FS1,” he stated flatly, easily deducing Harry’s plan.

 

“Lee, we have to find out what these mystery people are up to.  No one puts this amount of resources and intrigue into a science experiment without an end-goal,” the admiral argued passionately.

 

Lee reached to rub his forehead, carefully avoiding the bandage.   He knew the Admiral was right about getting to the bottom of just who opened the fissure and why, but the battle with the squid had left him short-handed with some of his best men out of commission.  It was bad enough having Chip and Riley flat on their backs, but Harry was talking about taking a team to the island and that would mean draining his resources for Seaview all the more.  He bit his bottom lip in thought realizing that he couldn’t afford to take his go-to team of Kowalski, Patterson, Ron and Sharkey, to the island; not when Seaview was still licking her wounds.  He made his decision and raised his eyes to meet Harry’s.

 

“I’ll make the order to surface; O’Brien already has a detail working on FS1, but we go to the island on one condition.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Just you and me and one other man to stay with the flying sub.”

 

Harry nodded his approval, acknowledging the wisdom of Lee’s decision and knowing that the two ONI-trained operatives were up to the task. 

 

“Very well, Captain,” he said not one to like ultimatums, then added a small smile to take the sting out of his reply. 

 

Lee responded with a tired but sincere smile, their relationship well-able to withstand the sometimes necessary frank discussions that resulted when his duty as Captain of Seaview seemed to clash with Harry’s plans, brilliant as they often were.

 

With that settled, he headed to the mic hanging on the wall.  “Mr. O’Brien, this is the Captain; surface.”

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

“Well done, Admiral Nelson!  My congratulations to Captain Crane and your gallant crew as well,” offered the grateful Secretary of Defense.  “The President has entrusted me to extend his gratefulness on behalf of the nation for making the seas safe once again.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” Harry replied graciously.  “There are still some details to work out,” he added cryptically. 

 

“Ah yes, I was briefed.  I leave that in your capable hands and anxiously wait for your report on the matter.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” the admiral repeated as the view monitor blackened.

 

“All set?” Harry heard from behind him as Lee, dressed in jungle greens, buckled on his holster.  Other than the flesh colored butterfly bandage that replaced the gauze bandage on his forehead, he appeared fit and ready for action.

 

“Yes, Washington has the statement I prepared.  It will be released to the news stations along with the evidence verifying the creature’s destruction.  It should make breaking news and headlines within the hour.”

 

“Let’s hope that it’s enough to keep them from investigating the lost signal just yet,” Lee replied, hoping to deal with a sub in its pen rather than leaving Seaview to intercept it without its captain aboard. 

 

“That’s the plan,” Harry countered matter-factly, his confidence never wavering as he headed for the spiral staircase.  “I’ll be down in five minutes,” he informed, taking the steps upward toward Officer’s Country.

 

Lee turned to get another update on the repairs, once satisfied he returned to the bow, taking in the brilliant sunshine bathing the Herculite windows as Seaview bobbed gracefully on the surface.  It was a peaceful sight with waves billowing wistfully against the windows and an occasional puffy cloud in the distance.  But for all the tranquility that the sea offered the seasoned sailor, he knew that it was only the calm before the storm.

 

* * * * *

 

Steps ascending the ladder preceded Sharkey’s head popping out from the deck hatch.  He climbed out and handed the clipboard to Lee.

 

“She’s all checked out and ready to go, Sir.”

 

“Very well, Chief,” Lee replied, signing off the checklist and handing it back.

 

Sharkey started to leave and then turned back.  “Skipper, are you sure you don’t want me to come along… to watch your back, I mean?” he asked, practically begging to join the detail.

 

“I appreciate that, Chief, but I need you aboard to coordinate the repairs.  Seaview can’t spare you.”

 

“Aye, Sir,” he answered reluctantly just as the Admiral rounded the staircase dressed in jungle green fatigues.  He stopped in the Nose to strap on the sidearm Kowalski, who was similarly dressed, was holding for him.

 

“Ready, Captain?” Harry asked solemnly for the dangerous mission they were about to undertake but also accompanied with a definite glimmer in his eye; one that exuded utmost confidence in their plan.

 

“Ready, Sir,” Lee replied, waving an arm toward the deck hatch and inviting the Admiral to descend first and then followed.  Kowalski was the last to take the ladder, but was temporarily stopped by a hand on his elbow.

 

“Take care, kid,” Sharkey said in as brusque a fashion as he could to hide his concern.

 

Ski smiled broadly.  “Are you kidding, Chief?  With the Admiral and Captain Crane coming along, it’ll be a cinch!” he said confidently, smiling broadly before descending completely down the ladder.

 

“Yeah, a cinch,” Sharkey muttered sardonically, closing the deck hatch and turning the wheel.

 

* * * * *

 

Meanwhile…

 

“The news stations are starting to broadcast the report.  I have several recorded for your review,” the communication operator reported from his station in the Master Control Room. 

 

“Put it on screen,” a cold feminine voice ordered, the scientist stepped forward to monitor the transmission, her hands tucked into the pockets of her white lab jacket, while the operator turned dials and switched on the monitor to view a newscast already in progress.

 

“… this is as close as the US Navy will allow us, but I’m told that only twenty miles south of us, the SSRN Seaview has surfaced and has reported that the Meglasquid, as it has come to be known, has been destroyed.  Repeat: the Meglasquid has been destroyed.  By now, most of the world has seen this picture…”

 

A full-screen fuzzy black and white picture replaced the reporter on the screen as he continued. 

 

“… of a sea monster of gigantic proportions and the daring rescue that saved the only two survivors of the doomed freighter, the Bluejacket.  Both men have refused to give live interviews, but transcripts of their ordeal have made front page news across the world…”

 

The shot switched back to the reporter.

 

“A total of four ships, ranging from freighters to a yacht were attacked, making this threat the world’s number one priority.  That was, however, until one hour ago, when the US Navy released this short video…”

 

He lowered his mic and waited for the studio to switch over to the recording that had been made public in order to ease the concerns of the world.

 

“On behalf of the United States Navy, I am pleased to report that the sea creature that has terrorized the shipping lanes these last six weeks has been destroyed,” the Naval Press Secretary stated, standing in front of a podium with dozens of microphones surrounding him in a half-circle.  “The creature’s defeat was an incredible feat by Admiral Nelson and his fantastic windowed submarine, the SSRN Seaview.  Admiral Nelson himself, reported the destruction and transmitted these pictures as evidence of the squid’s final termination,” he added as two large prints were placed on easels to either side of him; one showing a severed tentacle and the other a wide-shot depicting the ocean floor strewn about with pieces of what was left by the obviously blown-up squid.  “The shipping lane is now safe for the vessels of the world.  I’ll take a few questions, now.”

 

A barrage of questions bombarded him as the Press Secretary picked the loudest reporter’s question.

 

“Yes, Terry.”

 

“What can you tell us about the battle itself?  Did the Seaview suffer casualties?”

 

“It’s too early to give you a blow by blow description of the battle,” he answered to the soft chuckles of the reporters in the room, “but I can tell you the battle was intense and Admiral Nelson reports significant injuries aboard the Seaview, but thankfully, there were no deaths.  The submarine, itself, suffered damage and the US Navy has deployed assets to render whatever assistance it can offer.  I cannot be more specific about the nature of the repairs at this point,” he added as other reporters clamored for the follow-up question.  “Only that Admiral Nelson credits their successful mission to the seamanship of Captain Lee Crane and the brave crew of the Seaview…”

 

A screen shot of a NIMR promotional photo of Nelson flanked by Crane and Morton in full dress uniform now filled the screen. 

 

“Freeze the picture,” she said, stepping closer and studying the three distinguished men in military dress blues.  “Do we have confirmation that Seaview has surfaced?” the blonde-headed woman asked in a deliberate change of subject.

 

“Yes Doctor, we have this,” the station operator answered, switching one of four monitors to a satellite photo of the windowed submarine on the ocean surface, time stamped one hour earlier.

 

“I did not expect the Seaview to prevail,” she said mostly to herself while examining the image.  “Zoom in here,” she ordered, pointing to a dark spot on the port side.  The black and white photo was grainy but still discernible to her learned eye.  “Well, she didn’t go down without a fight, at least,” she said rather casually regarding the sea creature.

 

“What about the readings from the fissure?” the operator inquired.

 

“It’s of no consequence; the battle with the squid coincides with the loss of data.  We’ll reestablish contact when the area is clear once again.”

 

“Yes, Doctor, but what if Nelson finds our intercept device?”

 

“They have other concerns at the moment,” she replied examining the submarine again.  “Once we reestablished contact, the fools will assume that their own trifling attempts at remedying the electronics remotely were successful.  I only need a few more months to complete my work,” she added, contemplating the present status of her research.

 

“Yes, Doctor,” the operator replied, withholding any other questions he might have for the clever, if not temperamental scientist.

 

Her eyes returned to the monitor with the picture of Nelson and his officers, focusing in on one man in particular.  “Hello Harry,” she said as if greeting him in person.  “It’s been a long time,” she finished darkly, losing all semblance of civility as her eyes bore hatefully into the image of the auburn-haired admiral.

 

End Part I

 

 

 

Author’s Notes:  There’s more to this tale, so stay tuned for Part II!  Don’t worry, it’s already written so check back soon for the next half of Giants of the Deep.  : )

 

 

 

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Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and her main characters belong to Irwin Allen

And the respective production companies